Halo: Ghost of Cerinia
by gabe seers
Summary: A Halo and star Fox crossover...The Covenant has mysteriously risen again...and Krystal's ruined home-world of Cerinia has a part to play in the unfolding chaos...also Master Chief finds himself back in action after spending months lost in space.
1. Prologue:Converging stars

Author's note: Halo crossover Star fox. Please comment on my writing skills.

**Author's note: Yo guys, thanks for reading my story. I'm a wannabe writer and I hope to be able to write (and hopefully publish) a fantasy book within the next 2 years. I'll be mostly writing about sci-fi and fantasy stuff and crossovers (This crossover is Halo and Star Fox). Hey, if I wanna practice writing, may as well have fun right? So please review my writing skills (Ignore any small plot holes like wrong names of guns or that Fox is gay and Master-Chief is Japanese). Depending on the story's reception, I may expand it so for now I'll keep the story to 2 chapters at the very least. Enjoy!**

**(P.S I'm 16 so go easy on me)**

**UNSC Calendar 2553 April 29****th**** Cairo Station**

A dark silhouette stood against the warm pool of amber and cyan light which poured through a wide rectangular window. The figure sighed; deep resignation reigned in his voice. A grand wooden desk lay in the middle of the room, its surface littered with piles of files and paper. Surrounding it were numerous computers and holographic screens depicting maps of planets and star systems. A faint glow emanated from them, tinting the furniture in the room with a light shade of blue. Suddenly, two sharp knocks broke the silence of the office.

"Enter." the figure rumbled in a hoarse voice.The doors slid open and Admiral Harper hobbled in, one hand clutched on a walking stick while the other delicately balancing two mugs of coffee on a file.

The figure spun around, revealing him to be Fleet Admiral Terence Hood, albeit a much older looking one. Thick dark lines were etched across his forehead and his cobalt eyes now seemed weary and listless.

"Harper!" exclaimed Admiral Hood in surprise, "I thought you were still recovering in hospital?"

"I was Sir, but I guess I recovered faster than expected." replied Harper, settling himself into an armchair and laying the file and the two mugs on the desk.

"It's good to see you back," chuckled Admiral Hood, a faint smile appearing on his face.

"Well, I may be able to add to that smile Sir." grinned Harper, "We have received some very…ahh.. _interesting _reports of late. Help yourself to the coffee by the way." With that, he gestured to the file on the desk.

Admiral Hood frowned as he gazed at the thick file.

"Great, more reports. I've seen enough of them to last a lifetime. Just brief me what your news is all about," replied the Admiral, as he helped himself to the coffee.

"I think this should clear things up." said Harper. His hands dug deep into his side pockets and from it's depth he retrieved a flat metallic disk. Harper carefully lowered the device onto the desk and tapped a small button located on its side. Immediately, a holographic map sprang up. It was a map of all territories belonging to the UNSC prior to the Covenant invasion.

Admiral Hood did a double take and spluttered on his coffee as he looked at the map. In the centre of the map where Earth's solar system was, was a dense sea of green, which represented the UNSC. The red areas represented the remaining Covenant forces. However, instead of the angry ring of crimson red which once encircled them, there was nothing. Grey patches now dominated the Outer Colonies instead of red.

"My god…" muttered Admiral Hood, "Are you sure there weren't any mistakes?"

"Doubt so Sir," replied Harper "All our scouting ships and scans point to the same fact, _the Covenant are gone._"

Admiral Hood rubbed his cheeks thoughtfully as he squinted at the map, as if to assure himself he wasn't seeing things.

"Could be a trap," the admiral mused darkly "They could be planning a counter attack."

"That's plausible Sir, the retreat seemed highly organized. Seems like there's some form of leadership involved here." said Harper "However, it's also likely that the Covenant has simply broken apart and all those different alien races are going their own ways."

"Has Arbiter been informed?" queried Admiral Hood.

"We're attempting to establish communication with him Sir, but I believe he and his fleet have left the range of our communication network." Harper said.

Admiral Hood sighed and took a long draught from his mug.

"Well, I'll still like some scouting ships sent out to look for the Covenant. I've got a bad feeling about this" said the admiral, his blue eyes peering over the edge of his cup.

"Will do Sir." replied Harper somewhat cheerfully, "Still, better out than in eh?"

"Cheers to that," chortled Admiral Hood as he raised his mug.

**Cornerian Calendar 6032th Cycle May 20****th**** Lylat system Outskirts**

The interior of the spaceship was deadly quiet, safe for the whirl of the computers and a low snore which drifted from the pilot's chair. A blanket had been draped over the sleeping pilot, hiding his body under its warm interiors. A helmet rested on his body and it bobbled slowly and steadily up and down; in tune to the pilot's rhythmic breathing.

Suddenly, a shrill beeping noise filled the air. It reverberated throughout the cockpit, loudly. With a grunt, the pilot sprang up from beneath the blankets. His helmet slipped off him and landed on the floor with a clang. The pilot blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a paw; the pilot was a raccoon. With a yawn, he peered at the scanner's screen for a closer look. There was a flashing red dot on his screen, alerting him to the presence of another ship. The raccoon pressed his head-set closer to his ears and spoke in a husky voice, "This is the Cornerian Defense Force, please identify yourself."

No answer. The pilot shuddered; his paws were already nervously fingering the laser triggers. Though it was the aftermath of the Aparaoid invasion and Venomian war, there were still a great many evil things lurking about in the gloom of space. "_Why the hell did I volunteer for this?" _wondered the pilot. He could still recall agreeing excitedly to a volunteer mission to scout the Lylat system outskirts. Though the Aparoid invasion was over, the chaos left in its wake left many places lawless and without a sufficient military presence. Crooks and killers alike festered in the outlying areas in the Lylat system where the army was non-existent. As for the raccoon, he was a rookie pilot who had just joined the air force and was eager for his share of action.

"I repeat, this is the Cornerian Defense Force. Identify yourself or I will fire!" the pilot boomed in what he hoped was a brave voice.

Still silence. The raccoon deftly jabbed a glowing button on his control panel and a holographic screen popped out in front of him. A reticule materialized on the screen and automatically locked on onto the unknown ship, which was still out of visibility range. With a gulp, the raccoon jerked his thruster forwards. His fighter responded and inched its way forward, venturing ever closer towards it.

Upon reaching it, a gasp escaped the raccoon's mouth. The ship was unlike anything he had ever seen. Intricate purple veins ran along its side and it possessed a sleek grey and violet exterior. It was shaped like a tear drop, save for its piscine front. The raccoon gawked at the spaceship for a moment, marveling its unique design. Hesitantly, he decided to contact it once more.

"Please identify yourself, the…" before the raccoon finished his speech however, a blinding cyan bolt burst forth from the ship and struck his own at the wing. His fighter jerked violently and groaned in protest. In a flash, the raccoon squeezed the trigger on his thruster. Two laser bolts erupted from his fighter and screamed towards the hostile spacecraft. That did no good however, the laser exploded in a fury of light before making contact with the ship.

"Just what I feared, the bugger has a shield on" the raccoon exclaimed. His ship possessed no shield as it was merely meant for scouting purposes. He hastily steered his fighter around, eager to escape the menace which lay behind him. However, the enemy spacecraft wasn't done yet. It continued its pursuit, all the while releasing sporadic blasts of plasma. At that instant, a blinding flash of white light erupted somewhere behind them. A shimmering portal emerged from its place. From within, a few wavering shadows appeared in the middle of the portal. The shadows grew larger and larger until without warning, a massive battleship burst forth. Intimidating guns lined its sides and just like the spacecraft the raccoon encountered, it too had delicate veins of purple running along its side and underbelly. Another ship emerged after it, followed by another, then another. An ominous air foreboded them.

The raccoon's fighter was in dire straits. Its left wing and fuel line had been shot and the ship was not going to last much longer. Yet, the hostile spaceship was still hot on his tail, aggressively pelting his fighter with plasma. The raccoon also dared not head for any nearby space outposts in fear of leading this alien fleet towards his home-world.

"_This is it, I'm dead." _The pilot thought, tears brewing at the corner of his eyes. His eyes darted towards a photo of his parents pinned on the wall. Memories and thoughts whizzed through his mind, he saw a flashback of his tenth birthday…loosing his sister to the Aparoid invasion…arguing with his father over his decision to join the army…running away from home to join the Cornerian Defense Force. And then, something miraculous happened. The enemy spacecraft was gone. The raccoon stared at his scanner, but all he saw was a blank. There was nothing out there.

He frowned suspiciously. He steered his fighter around and ventured cautiously to where the enemy spaceship once was. All he found were a few floating chunks of twisted metal and other space debris which visibly came from his attacker.

"Something destroyed it" the raccoon wondered out aloud.

However, he could not dwell for long on his good fortune. His ship was badly mauled and he needed repairs; fast. The raccoon hurriedly pushed his ship onwards for the nearest outpost and wondered how the Cornerian army would react to his news.

**UNSC 2553 May 20****th**** Approx 0.8 Light-years from Harvest**

"This is Pilot Jackson, no enemy activity spotted over," Jackson droned listlessly over his mouthpiece. He stretched his arms into the air and stifled a loud yawn before resting his hands behind his head.

"This is killing me," complained Co-Pilot Rick "It's been like three weeks of roaming around empty space with nothing to kill but time." He absent mindedly tapped the spaceship's side boards, his face looking very sour.

"Quit whining," grunted Jackson as he furrowed his eyebrows and stared out of the cockpit window. He hated having Rick as a co-pilot but with a scouting mission on such short notice, good crew members were hard to snag.

Rick rolled his eyes and slumped back onto his seat. Jackson caught Rick's sarcastic response in the reflection of the cockpit window and frowned. _"Stupid rookies,"_ he thought quietly to himself.

He hated to admit Rick was right but he was. It had indeed been a boring three weeks. Their daily routine was to venture around their carriers, usually going great distances at a time and spending up to two days on each patrol. It was uncomfortable to remain cooped up in their cramped cockpit. And with little privacy and bland nutrition cubes which consisted of their diet, tensions rang high. Despite the flaws in their living standards however, they were admittedly commanding a state of the art spaceship.

It was a proto-type stealth ship, capable of morphing its colors to suit its background and hence, becoming invisible. Radars and scanners also had no effect on this fighter and it was almost soundless when flying, though that made little difference in space. The UNSC Broadsword it was called and it was designated for scouting missions or as a stealth bomber.

Vanquishing their boredom however, was a sudden beeping noise which filled the cockpit. Both Rick and Jackson gave a start. "Seems like we have two unknown ships Sir," Rick said as he peered intently into his scanner, "I'll run a detailed scan on them before we move in"

"Well?" asked Jackson after a moment or two. Rick scratched his head and began, "Weird. We have one Covenant Seraph-Class ship…the other is unknown...seems like they're engaged in combat."

Jackson weighed his options, he could contact the carrier to request back-up or he could intervene. "Looks like a stray Covenant fighter," mused Jackson, "But it shouldn't be too difficult for our stealth ship to handle,"

"C'mon Sir! Let's give it to the Covenant!" Rick piped up excitedly, the prospect of a dogfight greatly raising his morale.

"Shut it," growled Jackson, "We will fight, but we're going in invisible."

"But Sir, why not engage them in open combat? It'll be more…" Rick started again, before the pilot cut him off. "More fun? If you're here for fun, then please, leave the UNSC navy." barked Jackson. Rick fell silent, eyeing his superior with intense dislike.

Jackson tapped a button which brought out a holographic screen and on it jabbed the option labeled "Cloaking". Instantaneously, the ship seemingly disappeared. Jackson urged the thrusters forward and the fighter darted with due haste towards the ongoing battle.

"Rick, give me an update on both ship's status," ordered Jackson. With a click, Jackson flipped the safety for his missile launchers off and groped the missile triggers which were built onto the thruster's side. The missiles were ASGM-12 missiles, upgraded from the older ASGM-10 missiles to have a harder punch, and most importantly undetectable on a scanner.

"The Seraph has received zero damage while the unknown ship has sustained severe damage to its left wing and fuel line," replied Rick as he busily tapped into his keyboard.

"Roger that," said Jackson. He squeezed the triggers and two missiles erupted from somewhere beneath the fighter. They streaked dead-on towards their target. Jackson stared intently at his scanner. The two missiles were visible on his screen as they had a tracking dot which transmitted their position to their ship. They inched closer and closer to the Seraph fighter until finally, the fighter disappeared from his screen as the two missiles converged upon it. Rick gave a low whistle. "Nice shot Sir!" he complimented.

"For the first time, you said the right thing." grunted Jackson, though a smile broke out across his visage. He cracked his knuckles and decided to move the fighter in for a closer look and to inspect the unknown ship.

"Should we contact the unknown ship Sir?" asked Rick, one hand already prepared to tap the button to switch their communicator to an open channel.

"Negative, that guy could be hostile. It's likely the Covenant broke up so we may be facing fighters of different alien races, but all of them are enemies to us." replied Jackson.

Their ship finally approached the wrecked remains of the Seraph fighter. The unknown ship however, had vanished off. "Rick, do you have the last known position of that guy?" asked Jackson as he scrutinized the debris of the Seraph from behind his cockpit window.

"Yes Sir, universal coordinates are 789A234N007L," Rick rattled off the numbers in a single breath, "Should I message the numbers to HQ and inform them about our encounter?"

"Do it," ordered Jackson as he unscrewed the top of his thermos flask and consumed its contents in a single gulp, "We'll let the brass take it from here."


	2. The darkening skies

* * *

A/N: Well, I'll be laying my pen (or keyboard) down here

**A/N: Well, I'll be laying my pen (or keyboard) down here for a while until my exams are over. I'll be writing one more chapter and then possibly start on other writing projects. Depending on how well received this story is, I may expand on it. So give a shout (e-mailing or a positive review) if you wanna see more of this. Oh and please give me your r and r on my writing skills. Let me know if you find it amateurish or which parts you find rocky.**

_**(P.S My story is based on the aftermath of Halo 3 and after Star Fox Assault and before Star Fox Command…basically fox and krystal broke up, star fox broke up and the covenant broke up…) **_

_The Cornerian sky was a glorious palette of magenta, indigo and varying shades of red with a streak of cobalt blue at the uppermost edge of the sky; a sign that dusk was fast approaching. The horizon was brimmed with skyscrapers, though many were reduced to stumps or charred skeletons thanks to the Aparaoid invasion. Nevertheless, they still glittered beautifully under the setting sun. Two figures serenely marveled the Cornerian skyline from a rocky outcrop at the edge of the city. _

_"The Aparoids may have ruined the city, but it's still so beautiful," whispered one of them in an unmistakably feminine voice. The figure turned around, revealing it to be a vulpine whose fur was of a richest Maya blue._

_The other figure said nothing. Instead, it remained rigid and unmoving. _

_The blue vulpine spoke again, though an edge of concern had crept into her voice. "Is something the matter Fox?" she asked delicately. _

_Fox McCloud unraveled his arms which had been wrapped around his legs and sighed. A troubled expression was painted on his face as he turned to face Krystal._

_"Krystal…," he began uncomfortably, and then paused, searching for the right words to phrase his thoughts. Krystal, being telepathic, probed into Fox's thoughts but his mind remained guarded. Fox was concealing something. _

_"This was hard on me…but…I think it's best if you…left the team." Fox finally muttered, his eyes staring determinedly at the granite which lay below his feet. A stunned silence filled the air; even the birds which had been chirping merrily moments before became quiet._

_After a long while, Krystal found her voice again._

_"…Why?" she asked. Immediately, she caught a stream of thoughts which ran through Fox's mind._

_"…I guess you think I'm the 'damsel in distress', huh?" she spoke, her voice unusually hushed. She was expressionless, but the mood between them suddenly grew uneasy and tense. _

_"It's not that…it's…I'm worried for you," Fox mumbled, his eyes throwing a furtive glance at Krystal. _

_"I know I may have needed help more than once but that does not make me weaker than the rest of the team," Krystal quietly replied. She remained determinedly stone-faced. Fox dithered on how best to approach the situation; the conversation was not going where he wanted._

_"You don't have to do this, we'll be alright…trust me," Krystal whispered. Her eyes were now locked onto Fox's. Fox felt his passion for her ignite as their gaze met. Her lustrous emerald eyes held the same passion for him too as he stared into their depths. But yet, a new sadness now resided behind those two orbs. _

_"Don't leave me Fox," she whispered once more. Melancholy echoed her voice, a hint that grief rested in her. Fox felt his heart ache and said nothing. _

_As much as he longed for Krystal, a new resolve filled him. "I'm sorry but you must leave," he replied firmly, "The life I lead…is not meant for you…you're going to have to go." He barricaded his thoughts behind a mental wall; for her safety crystal had to leave…and she could not know how deep his feelings were for her. _

_"Make me," she answered fiercely. Resentment simmered in those eyes of hers now. _

_"Fine, I'm firing you," Fox said coolly, "Should you try following me I will not hesitate in a restraining order." The anguish in his heart was excruciatingly painful, but he knew what he had to do. _

_Krystal was startled at his reply; she seemed as if she had been slapped. For a moment, Fox half prayed she would forgive him. Then the expected happened. _

_"You won't need to fire me, for I quit!" she hissed, the hurt in her voice unmistakable. In one lithe move, she sprang up and lightly leapt off the rocky outcrop. _

_Fox waited until he was sure Krystal was gone. The sun soon dipped below the horizon and twilight faded away. He had never felt more alone as darkness engulfed him and he was left to weep in the cold cruel night. _

**Cornerian Calendar 6032****nd**** Cycle May 26****th ****Aboard the Great Fox**

Fox's eyes fluttered open. As his dream drifted away, a wave of shame and disgust buffeted him. He had dreamt about Krystal, _again. _Fox clenched his eyes shut, blocking out the shaft of glaring white light which filtered through the cockpit window and fell across his face. He waited until the magnificence of the light dimmed before releasing his eyelids.

Fortuna loomed outside his window. The planet was a verdant sea of green, due to the fact lush forests covered a wide expanse of Fortuna. Intricate veins of blue knotted the planet; they were the many rivers which ran throughout the planet. From where Fox was, he could discern a hazy blotch of navy blue which lay on the curvature of the planet; the sea. Wispy clouds obscured all other landmarks however, save for the occasional mountain ranges which surfaced over the dense ocean of unbroken jungle.

Fox savored the beauty of Fortuna from behind the cockpit window and was reluctant to leave the comfort of his armchair. A few minutes drifted by before McCloud gave a weary sigh and got up; ready to face the bustle of a new day. However, his days had admittedly been rather dull of late. With Star Fox disbanded, he hardly heard from his friends anymore. Falco had romped off in search of more adventures of his own. Slippy had a fiancée, though Fox was sure that was probably a rumor; the image of a married Slippy was almost laughable. And as for Krystal…he rather not broach on the subject.

Gone were the days of intense dogfights, adventures and more frequently, misadventures. These days, it was mainly small time escort missions which Fox undertook alone. He also faced little luck in his latest task, to uncover where Andrew Oikonny was hiding.

Andrew's mysterious disappearance bugged Fox immensely. It was unlike Andrew Oikonny to stay hidden for so long. It had almost been two years since their last encounter on Fortuna, where Andrew's coup was foiled by the sudden appearance of the Aparoids. "_The only reason Andrew Oikonny was hiding for this long"_, concluded Fox, "was _that he had to be working on something big."_ Still, whatever Andrew's plans were, Fox had no idea of knowing for three months of searching Andrew's bases on Fortuna yielded little results.

Adding to his ill fortune was the fact that the original Great Fox was destroyed in the Aparoid invasion since they sacrificed the ship to breach Katina's shield. Fortunately, Fox habit of frugally saving for a rainy day paid off; he had enough credits to purchase a new ship similar to the old Great Fox albeit a few modifications of his own.

"Rob, so how's the world doing?" queried Fox as he stretched his stiff arms.

"It's 0845 Universal hours and yet another peaceful and beautiful day across the Lylat System." was ROB's curt reply. The fox could not help but note a hint of sarcasm in his robotic voice.

"Remain in auto-pilot please, that'll be all," the vulpine replied.

Fox strode along the dimly lit main corridor, on his way to the shower-room. As he passed by Falco's old bedroom on the Great Fox, he could not help but take a swift glance. A faded poster featuring a voluptuous and scantily clad fennec still clung to the wall. Fox gave a dull chuckle at the sight of it, remembering Falco to be the ever self proclaimed 'lady's man'. A model Arwing fighter lay on a bedside cabinet, its wings gilded by the faint corridor lights. A flashback immediately played through his mind; he could still recall all the dogfights he and Falco had gone through. Falco would be remembered as the ever brilliant and skillful pilot he was, many a times Falco had proved himself a valuable asset to the team.

And last off all Falco would be remembered as one of his few closest friends. Fox had always enjoyed Falco's company, though he was at times arrogant and egotistical. Still, for all his faults, Falco was confident and fun to have around, and a loyal friend.

As Fox McCloud walked down the lonely corridor, relics of the past scattered here and there reminded him of the happier days aboard the Great Fox. An old pile of textbooks lay stacked in a corner in Slippy's bedroom. He could almost hear Slippy's animated voice chattering away despite the fact Fox was all alone.

Slippy was a friend he had known since their school days. He was going through a very rough period then; his father had been presumed dead thanks to Pigma's betrayal. It was Slippy's cheerful outtake on life which raised his spirits again. A grin was wrested from McCloud as his gaze fell upon Slippy's wrist computer, which had an honorary resting place in a display cabinet. Its luminous face glowed softly in the pitch black darkness of the room, like a gem left forgotten in the deeps of time. The wrist computer had been a parting gift from Slippy before he left Star Fox, though the computer's interface was too complex for anyone either than Slippy to operate.

And last of all was the guest bedroom, the room where Krystal slept in. Fox treaded cautiously to the door, trying his best to not get overly sentimental. His heroic attempt failed; he could feel his eyes growing moist as flashbacks from the past whizzed through his mind.

Fox could still recall her angelic singing drifting through this very door. Krystal frequently sang softly to herself in her native tongue when she was sure everyone else was asleep. Fox however, would stay up, absorbing her mellifluous voice which soothed his mind and eventually, that sweet voice would lull him to sleep.

Even when they began dating, she continued to enchant him. Her tender-heartedness and the simple elegance which perpetuated her captured his heart. Fox had hardened after the death of his parents but Krystal slowly stripped away that armor and filled his world with true love and joy once more.

But as soon as his heart mellowed again, harsh and cruel reality came gushing in once more. Fox knew Krystal's life was at stake and the Aparoid invasion had certainly proven that. He had lost his parents and he wasn't about to loose his only love too. With much regret and a heavy heart, he broke up their relationship.

Now, he was alone once more. Krystal was gone. Slippy was gone. Falco was gone. Just his shadows and a robot to keep him company as he ventured into the forlorn deeps of space.

The only thing which prevented him from plummeting into a deep melancholia was his obsession to find Andrew Oikonny. Somehow, to McCloud, Andrew was responsible for his loss. Even though he was only Andross's nephew, Andrew was every bit the megalomaniac and despot his uncle was. And Fox had to have him arrested, _or killed_, before any of his diabolical plans came to fruition.

"_Well, whatever his plans are, it's sure not going on in Fortuna", _McCloud thought miserably to himself as he trudged up a flight of stairs to the showers.

"_But where else could he be? I've tried everywhere, from Fichina to the Sargasso Space Zone…where else would he go?" _Fox tapped the control panel lightly with a paw and the bathroom door slid open.

"_Somewhere isolated and safe…somewhere where Andross's old laboratories or bases possibly still remain…"_

McCloud slowly peeled off his clothes, which were grimy from several days' worth of sweat. He lumbered into a shower cubicle and heavily slammed the translucent doors shut.

"…_Somewhere you will never think of…"_

Fox adjusted the temperature of the water to 35 degrees Celsius and punched the option labeled 'Shower' on the touch-screen. A foamy stream of water rained on him, filling his vision with a glistering curtain of water.

"…_Somewhere like Sauria…"_

Fox gave a start. He hastily turned the water off and clambered out of the shower, his furry body dripping wet. With a towel wrapped securely around his waist, McCloud stuck his head out of the shower-room door.

"Rob?" hollered Fox from the shower-room.

"Yes?" responded ROB, his voice sounding faded from the far end of the ship.

"Set our ship's course for Sauria please! Thanks!" Fox replied. With that, he retreated into the warm confines of the shower cubicle, wondering if his bet would pay off.

**Cornerian Calendar 6032****nd**** Cycle May 26****th**** 2135 Universal Time**

**Sauria **

"We have arrived at our destination and the time is 2135 Universal hours." ROB chirped, breaking the once uninterrupted silence which reigned in the cockpit.

"Roger that. Take us to…" before Fox could finish however, a buzz of static supplemented to his own voice.

A holographic screen came up above his communicator panel. The words 'Incoming transmission' briefly flashed before him, before being replaced by the head of a bulldog donning a headset.

"This is a secured area! Please state your identity and purpose of visit!" barked the bulldog, his eyes boring fiercely into Fox's own.

"Secured area? I wasn't aware Sauria was a secured area," replied Fox, who appeared slightly puzzled.

"It is now! Please state your identity and purpose of visit!" ordered the bulldog.

"There is only one occupant; which is me, aboard the ship save for my personal robot. My name is Fox McCloud and I was here due to an assignment to locate and capture Andrew Oikonny." said Fox in one breath as a slight frown spread across his visage. "_Why would the military be interested in Sauria?"_

"Roger that, please leave…" as the bulldog spoke once more, his eyes suddenly widened and his mouth comically formed a small 'O', "Wait, are you _THE_ Fox McCloud?"

"Yeah, I am" answered Fox. "_At least folks still know I'm a celebrity", _he mused darkly to himself.

The head of the bulldog momentarily retracted out of the screen. Fox could make out a flurry of hushed conversations in the background before another head replaced the bulldog.

"This is Brigadier General Morris Hanson; we urgently require the assistance of Star Fox! We will settle payment issues once you've landed. Please meet me in Conference room 10E; a guide will take you there." A bull dressed in a crumpled military uniform addressed him with due haste. Fox could tell something big was up, the bull had bloodshot eyes which must not have seen sleep for days and he seemed harassed. Once the bull finished his speech, the transmission ended.

Fox McCloud blinked and wondered what to make of all of this. "Well, where exactly do we land anyway?" Fox pondered out aloud.

As if in reply, a new transmission came in.

"This is Sauria Air Control; we will be sending you the coordinates of the designated landing location. Please park your ship in hangar 67-A, you may locate it on the map we will also be sending you," a professional sounding voice said coolly. A bunch of numbers suddenly popped up in the ship's main control screen, complete with a graphic layout of the base.

"Well Rob, the prelude to another adventure," murmured Fox softly. He was hoping that they would find new leads on the hunt for Andrew Oikonny but another assignment wouldn't be too bad…at least the general mentioned a salary.

"I can't wait," replied ROB somewhat sarcastically.

* * *

Beads of water droplets trickled down the cockpit window; it was raining on Sauria. Fox peered downwards; from where he was Sauria was a panorama of untamed jungles and deeply cloven tracks of brown, which were the many muddy rivers that twisted its way across the wild Saurian landscape. Jagged and snowcapped mountain ranges ran freely further to the north though Fox could barely discern them in the downpour which enveloped the greater part of the planet.

Fox McCloud could not help but let his thoughts drift to his last adventure on Sauria, Prince Tricky and inevitably; Krystal. Those thoughts stuck cloyingly to his mind as Sauria loomed closer and closer from behind his cockpit window. It was on this very planet his gaze first fell upon Krystal. It was love at first sight he guessed, though his befuddled mind was too confused to recognize it then. Back then, traces of feelings for Fara still lingered within him. Fara had been his first love, and first heartbreak. But eventually, Krystal's grace and beauty captivated him and stole his heart.

To Fox, all that seemed a long time ago; so many things had happened since then. McCloud gave his head a good shake and did his best to focus on landing the Great Fox safely, determined to stop reminiscing on the past.

Soon, the ferocity of the downpour became apparent to Fox; rain lashed across his window mercilessly, as if determined to shatter it. The sky itself seemed incandescent with rage, streaks of lightning ripped through the iron-laden skies like the mighty blade of some legendary warrior. The planet itself seemed to shudder under the wrath of the angry skies; a deep, sonorous rumble reverberated throughout Sauria each time the thunder boomed. Fox steered his ship cautiously towards the air-strip, wary of accidentally crashing into the many stoic buildings which were situated along the runway.

He brought up a holographic display screen and jabbed on the option labeled 'Nose Camera'. Immediately, a slightly grainy picture of the ship's front view popped up, allowing him a better view of the outside than through his rain smeared cockpit window.

Fox carefully lowered the Great Fox until with a resounding thud, his ship made contact with the wet runway. The Great Fox skidded and veered slightly to the left but a steady paw on the thrusters kept the ship on course. After what seemed like a long while, the ship grinded to a halt. All McCloud could hear now was the soft pitter patter of rain falling on the hull of the Great Fox.

"Back on good old Sauria," remarked Fox as he tucked his blaster securely into his holster. He also grabbed a few plasma cells from a glove compartment; ammunition for his blaster, and carefully placed it away in his side-pocket. Past experiences had taught him a blaster was the best friend you could have for all occasions.

"A vehicle is approaching us," ROB announced. Fox squinted through the miasmatic fog which clung to the ground and through the unceasing rain. Two small pinpricks of light pierced forth from the gloom. The lights grew larger and larger until finally Fox could see they belonged to a small sleek hovercraft. The hovercraft was shaped like a pod and possessed a silvery sheen. Miniature figures were inside though Fox could not make out their features.

"Time to go see the welcome committee I guess. ROB, please park our ship in hangar 67-A," ordered Fox. He grabbed a white vest; which lay draped over a chair, and wore it over his orange shirt. With that, Fox McCloud strolled out of the cockpit and into the unknown adventure which awaited him.

* * *

15 minutes later, Fox found himself in the dank and cheerless corridors which made up the makeshift military complex he was in. Though the place was well lit with tubes after tubes of glaringly bright white light, there were no heaters in the building. In this chilly weather, McCloud wanted nothing more but some hot air and a steaming mug of coffee. Important looking army officials bustled along the hallways, their paws or wings or hands clutched onto thick wads of paper or pocket computers. Fox also noted with interest the overwhelming presence of soldiers, for he saw them throughout his trip; from the entrance to the conference room.

The guide, who was a sandy haired dog, finally came to an abrupt stop at a sliding door. The door seemed sturdy and looked as if it was built to withstand a bomb blast. The words '**Conference Room 10E**' were emblazoned boldly on it.

"Everyone is inside. You may sit anywhere Mister McCloud," the dog addressed him politely, before turning to leave. Fox blinked, people usually didn't get this formal with him. With a deep breath, the fox rapped smartly on the door.

The door majestically slid open to reveal a spacious room inside. A great oak table occupied most of the conference room. The conference room was dark and the only lighting available seemed to emanate from the massive holographic screen which took up an entire wall.

"Good to see you here Mister McCloud. Under normal circumstances we would have shown you a better welcome but I'm afraid we have a serious situation on our hands. Please take a seat," The bull which had spoken to him earlier via the transmission emerged from the shadows of a dark corner.

"My name as you should know is General Morris Hanson and here are a few colonels and majors who could make it on time to join us." With that, he gestured towards six other equally grim looking military officials.

Fox took a seat near the front of the table and turned his gaze to the holographic screen. The blurred image showed a section of star speckled space. The time of the video; 13:49, flashed at the bottom of the screen.

The bull cleared his throat and began, "As we were discussing earlier, a new threat has emerged in the outskirts of the Lylat system. Approximately six days ago, a scouting ship was attacked while on a regular patrol in Sector Z-5, a very remote area of our system. Thankfully, the ship and pilot survived but the footage and news they brought to us revealed something disturbing. Take a look."

General Hanson tapped the screen lightly and a video began playing out. At first, Fox could see nothing, just miles after miles of empty space. The camera had to be mounted on the fighter for it appeared to be moving; McCloud noted that a small ring of asteroids which dotted the background was shifting its position marginally.

And then the climax of the show; a small purplish speck came into view. The speck gradually enlarged until…

"Sweet mother of…" swore Fox. The speck was a spaceship; a spaceship which he had never seen before and was out of this world. Everything, from its deliberate sleekness to the piscine front to the hue of purple which pervaded it seemed…alien. Before he could take a second glance, a blinding bolt of light filled the screen, temporarily stunning Fox. When McCloud's eyes had recovered, he could tell this fighter was in trouble; the alien ship was pursuing and attacking it. Every now and then, streaks of brilliant light lanced outwards and struck the fighter. The camera wobbled dangerously and static began to fill the video.

"But that isn't the worst of all…" sighed the battered general as he tapped the screen once more. The video was fast forwarded before coming to a stop at the time 13:58. A wavering orb of pale light sparked into existence in the background. Fox caught sight of a few shadows emerging from it before the holographic screen went blank.

The lights suddenly came on in the conference room and the holographic screen disappeared. McCloud struggled to make foot of what he had just seen; those did not look like Andross's creation or Aparoids or anything he had ever encountered.

"That was what disturbed us most; _that portal_. All our scientists and engineers have confirmed that the bright orb was the result of most likely slip-space travel. …And judging by the distance of the portal from the camera and assuming those 'shadows' were battleships…we think those ships must be at least 100 Standard Units long…" the bull spoke grimly.

"100 SUs? That's at least the size of an office block!" gasped Fox, "And how many of those things are there?"

"That's the problem, we aren't sure." General Morris replied sadly, "It's been six days of pure hell here lately minus the fire. Six days of watery hell I might add; the rain is terrible. We were scrambling to get a base set up on Sauria since it's pretty close to the Lylat system outskirts but at the same time a safe distance away. We've informed General Peppy though it may take a while before a large fleet can be sent to our aid; the damned Aparoid invasion wrecked most of our communication outposts."

The general clicked on a small button located on the underside of the table. A holographic map materialized in the center of the table for all to see.

"In response to the threat we sent a relatively large strike force to the spot where the alien fleet was last spotted. That strike-force consisted of three battle frigates, a bombard ship and sixty fighters to boot. Barely three days after their departure, all contact with them was lost. Not a single ship has made it back since then nor have we received so much as a distress signal." A miniature red dot blinked steadily on the map. Upon closer inspection, Fox noted the dot was near a pale, white planet.

"Is that where the strike-force went?" queried Fox, pointing to the dot.

"Yes, and we believe if anything had happened to them, they would have probably made an emergency landing on Tiranus II," General Hanson replied, pointing to the same pale white planet which revolved serenely on the map next to the flashing dot.

"Let me guess, my mission is to head for Tiranus and find out what the hell happened?" asked McCloud as he folded his arms. The bull nodded.

"And more," the general added.

"The initial pay will be 90 000 credits, not including hazard cost or other bonuses. You will lead a small strike-force and secretly infiltrate the planet. The remnants of our main force will distract this alien fleet at the Maelrune Mining Outpost. Extract any survivors of the strike-force who landed on Tiranus and inform the military installations there to evacuate to Sauria. If you can, escort the squadron of fighters and transport ships out of Tiranus. Tiranus is a pretty cold place by the way, expect temperatures below freezing point. Any questions?"

"Will I be using the Great Fox to ferry my Arwing there?" Fox asked.

A crook appeared at the corner of General Hanson's mouth; a faint smile flashed across his serious face. "I see you've agreed to the mission. No, you'll be using a space carrier."

"May as well, the Great Fox lacks an insurance policy… for some reason I'm highly unpopular with insurance companies," Fox McCloud answered, a wry grin on his visage.

**6032****nd**** Cycle May 26****th**** 2150 Universal Time Tiranus II**

John Husky had a gut feeling it was going to be a bad week and it turned out he was right. Hiding in a filthy foxhole and getting it pummeled by rounds after rounds of artillery and plasma had not been his idea of celebrating the weekends. In fact, he wasn't even supposed to be here. Had this been a normal week, John would probably be cuddled up under his bedcovers sleeping in; or more likely squandering his weekly pay on booze or an excursion to a casino. But no, by the grace of divine intervention, he was stuck in hell.

John was, in our language, an Alaskan husky dog. His fur was thick and impervious to the bitter cold which scoured the surface of Tiranus II. Patches of bronze brown were scattered across his mainly creamy white furry body. And thanks to his fur, he was posted to the frozen wasteland which was Tiranus due to his natural protection against the cold.

Intense brown eyes peered out from beneath John's wavy fringe, warily scanning the nearly sunless horizon for any enemy activity. Ragged snowcapped mountains formed an intimidating wall in the distance and they were the only recognizable landmark amidst this bleak world; snow blanketed everything else.

"_Snow. The problem is the snow," _he thought miserably to himself as his listless eyes observed the sea of white around him.

On Tiranus, snow was their world. It enveloped everything in its icy grip, leaving little wildlife being able to thrive in its grasp. And nearly every night, without fail, a blizzard would come. Flecks after flecks of that wretched white stuff would tear through the lands as the furious winds howled in their ears. The soldiers here weren't happy of course and the only thing which kept them from laying their paws on a transfer request slip was the promise of a high pay and bonuses. For all the faults in his job, he was a proud member of the Elite Third Snow Regiment, a highly trained soldier in mountain and snow combat, and whining openly wouldn't do his outfit's name justice.

Being a lookout was a dull job, but he wasn't complaining; at least he wasn't asked to clear the bodies. With that thought, John threw a glance behind him. Great columns of smoke billowed out from behind the coniferous forest which lay to his back. Dark plumes of it stretched on endlessly, linking the heavens to the earth. Husky sighed wearily, the general who ran this joint had ordered all the bodies of his fallen comrades to be burned; no honorary resting place lay in stored for them. John knew that it was necessary due to the 'hygienic concerns' the corpses posed but a tinge of dislike for the general still ran in him. Those soldiers had fought hard last night and deserved better.

It all began nearly six days ago when a pilot made an emergency landing on Tiranus II, at the very base which lay behind John. Everything was funny at first, the poor raccoon went blabbering on about how he encountered some UFO and saw an alien fleet come popping out of slip-space. Naturally, everyone laughed it off and the major who reviewed him recommended psychiatric evaluation. But the pilot produced the video he captured and suddenly, everything wasn't so funny anymore.

Three days later, a lone fighter crash landed at the outskirts of Fort Baxter, or so he heard. The pilot in it was too badly mauled up to make it; he had suffered third degree burns and all…horrible business. Before he died however, a few last cryptic words escaped his mouth for his rescuers to hear, "They are coming…"

Two days later, they came.

The attacks came at dusk, and the prelude to the battle that followed was a dull rumbling noise which echoed across the planet and their base's scanners inexplicably going offline. John had been huddled up in a foxhole; a bunker his leaders called it though John wasn't fooled, they had simply dug a hole and reinforced it. Fear was thumping through Husky's heart as he laid waiting for the attack. The foxhole was well protected though; nearly impenetrable amour lined its roof and walls. Coupled with a plasma defense over-shield and an anti-air laser turret, it would require a lot to overcome it. Then, as John had anticipated, distant booms reverberated somewhere up in the skies and a flurry of plasma came raining down upon him.

A sickening, sizzling sound filled the foxhole each time the plasma made contact with the over-shield. A few other guys began feverishly muttering their prayers or taking one last gulp of whisky from their canteens.

"Now I know why they say there aren't any atheist in foxholes,' remarked Zack Cooper, an avian whose plumage was that of a molten brown. He believed in no religion.

"Why? Changing your mind?" smiled Tyrone Bryans, a wolf who had a distinctive crescent moon shaped birthmark imprinted on his left arm.

"Wouldn't make a difference even if I did, doubt God takes in late entries," replied Cooper darkly. A few other guys chuckled at that reply, lifting the heavy mood in that foxhole slightly. A particularly loud explosion tore the air, silencing everyone and returning the somber mood in their tiny foxhole.

The noise outside was like an orchestral concert; except replacing the music were deafening explosions and the occasional screams of pain coming from a bunker whose over-shield had been breached and its occupants hit. John shuddered at the noise; his number could be up any second once their over-shield had been depleted from one too many plasma strikes. Blinding light flashed through the log narrow gap in the wall of the foxhole meant for the soldiers to shoot through and their roof shook violently whenever a plasma bolt made contact with the ground. Acrid smoke drifted into the foxhole. John hastily rubbed his watering eyes and gripped his rifle even tighter.

As quickly as it came, the artillery bombardment ceased, only for a new terror to replace it.

"What's that?" Private Bryans asked. John's pointed ears perked up and he could make out what sounded like screeches…high pitch screeches…a lot of high pitch screeches…

"Bryans, Cooper, Foxtrot and Samson, control the gun turrets! We've got company!" ordered John as he flicked the safeties off on his gun. The others scrambled to the gap in the wall, their guns at a ready. Husky noted the darkening skies were filled with many shadowy specks; and they were closing in upon them.

"Conserve your ammo! Fire only when you can make visual contact with them!" John barked, hoping his voice wasn't shaking.

"Who are 'them' I wonder?" mused a soldier standing beside John.

"Let's kill them first, then examine them shall we?" replied Husky.

John Husky raised the rifle to his eyes and squinted through the laser sights. Those shadows were almost within range now…10 more SUs…5 SUs…his heart was beating fast …3 SUs … what the hell were those things?…2…1…Oh shit…

"Fire at will!" John roared. The cackle of gun fire broke out across the foxhole as both the turrets and soldiers began firing wildly into the black mass which approached them. John could hardly see how exactly his opponent looked like for a volley of plasma and bullets from their foxhole and other bunkers and sentry guns alike blanketed the attackers. Pink bolts of plasma peppered the ground before them, some almost striking his men but John and his squad fought on bravely. It would be a long night.

A while passed and the constant roar of gun-fire was all he heard. The stench of burnt flesh and choking smoke was all he smelt. The brilliant lights of plasma fire all he saw. Breaking the monotony was something John had not expected.

The only sign which foresaw their impending doom was a flash of cyan light so magnificent it blinded John's eyes. Next thing he knew, the air was ablaze. The heat was so intense, John gasped in pain. He weakly raised his arms but it did little to halt the heat-wave which screamed through their tiny foxhole and bombarded his body. A terrifying howl filled his ears. Quick as it came, it disappeared. An eerie silence took its place instead and a thick plume of smoke billowed into their foxhole. John coughed and spoke in a half-choked voice, "Everyone alright?"

His team grunted in response and John could see his soot covered and disheveled teammates emerging from their hiding spots. The husky checked his communicator which was attached to his ear and cursed upon seeing it; the device had a thin line of smoke trailing from its side. The heat generated by the particle beam had fried its delicate insides. There was now no way of contacting HQ.

John gestured for Cooper and another soldier to follow him before heading for the foxhole entrance. The other two nodded and scurried after the husky. Upon reaching the doorway, a desolate and destroyed world greeted them. Thick clouds of dust stirred in the stale air and a massive crater stood just outside their foxhole. The crater consumed the trenches and bunkers which were outside their foxhole barely moments before. John recognized the crater as a particle beam attack, which meant the aliens must have had a spaceship of some sort to launch such a strike. The husky shuddered at that thought.

A series of chirps and clicks came from somewhere in the distance. John raised his rifle when suddenly; a pink projectile came darting straight for him. He leapt out of its way but the shot still grazed his right arm leaving a shallow cut. Three insect-like creatures buzzed from the opposite end of the crater like phantoms from some kid's nightmare. Fifteen years of military experience had though John Husky that when facing the unknown, ducking was the best option.

"Duck!" ordered John as he scrambled back into the foxhole. His two other teammates did likewise. John motioned for the rest of his team cowering in the foxhole to prepare to open fire. Not a moment too soon for the three insects careered into their hideout. The bugs raised their own weapons, only to be brought down in a hail of plasma and bullets. John's team whooped and a chorus of cheers ran through their foxhole.

"Great job guys but the battle's far from over, we need to get out of here and link up with the inner ring of defenses further back. We're sitting ducks here. Let's move out!" John barked.

Their foxhole rested at the top of a ridge overlooking the south side of the base. A series of bunkers and foxholes also lay along the ridge although most of them had been obliterated in the particle beam strike. John tried not to think how close his team came to death as he scurried through the war torn landscape, with seven other soldiers in his wake. Had that beam struck a few meters closer and John would be nothing more but a smoldering pile of ashes.

He could still hear explosions and gunfire in the distance; a good sign for it meant the base hadn't fallen to the aliens yet.

"You know what would suck? If a whole swarm of those bugs attacked us now in the open," said Samson, ever the pessimist.

"Don't you dare jinx us. If anything happens it's your fault," growled Cooper, though his eyes now scanned the empty skies above him warily.

A few flecks of snow began descending upon the team who were inching their way cautiously for the base. A blizzard was coming.

"Great…_Now _it snows. What else could go wrong?" Samson grumbled to himself.

"That," replied Bryans who overheard him. Bryans pointed a shaky finger at three bright spots in the blackened night sky overhead. The team looked at where his finger was directed.

"Get some cover in those craters!" ordered John. He scrambled into one behind him while the rest of the squad hastily found their own.

"It's not too bad…at least it's just three of those…" said Cooper who was beside John. He never finished his sentence however; a burning mass of blue plasma exploded at the ground outside the crater. John squinted at their assailers and felt his heart drop. Those weren't the bugs…those were something bigger…something which was moving way aster…something which looked like a vehicle.

"Team, it's a flying machine of some sort! Switch your gun mode to fire rocket grenades!" hollered John. Beside him, Cooper got out a mini compact rocket launcher which was strapped to his back. The machines swooped own upon their positions, firing wildly before soaring into the heavens again for their next strike.

"Guys! On my mark we all fire at those things!" John yelled over the din of the plasma fire.

"Roger that!" his team chorused.

The flying machines made a 180 degree turn midair and prepared for a second strike; a strike which would never come.

"Go!" ordered John. At that instant, eight heads popped out from the numerous craters which dotted the landscape, rifles and rocket launchers in their paws and wings.

Eight clicks rang in the air and were preceded by a great whooshing sound. Rockets and grenades alike streaked for the suddenly outnumbered machines, leaving a tail of white smoke in their wake. Two of the machines darted to a side but the last machine was a second slower. Three rockets found its mark and the last machine was instantaneously turned into a gigantic fireball as the rockets converged upon it. The darkened heavens were lit up by the explosion. John's squad cheered, only to be forced to duck again when burning debris from the unfortunate contraption rained upon them. The other two vehicles meanwhile, seeing their comrade fall and an unexpectedly well armed foe, fled.

"Remind me to kill Samson, captain," panted Cooper.

"Sure, once this mission is over. For now his technical expertise are needed," replied John jokingly. The battered squad reloaded their weapons and rested for a few minutes before moving on again. The snow fell quickly, shrouding their vision in a curtain of ashen white. It would be a damned long night.

Ten minutes later the team finally found its way back to the base, or to what was left of it. Most of the lighting in the base was out but the charred skeletons of many building were dimly gilded by the burning shells of tanks and hovercrafts. Meters high piles of rubble lined the roads and the raining snow supplemented to the debris. At any rate, the attacks must have halted barely seconds before as lines after lines of wounded combatants lined the streets, their lumbering gait taking them to the closest medical tent. The scent of freshly spilled blood laced the air. John headed for the command tent which lay under the watchful gaze of the wrecked administrative block.

"Sir, John Husky of the Elite Third Snow Regiment, Captain of Black One Squad reporting. My team was charged with defending the south ridge but a particle beam strike wiped everyone else out save for my squad. Awaiting further instructions Sir," droned John Husky.

General Hans Williams nodded and replied, "We had similar beam attacks all along our northern and eastern outer defenses too. Take your team to the west wall of the base and help Easy Five and Alpha Seven squad fortify that area. Dismissed,"

John saluted the general and marched for the tent exit. Upon pulling the flaps of the tent up however, John discovered a leopard waiting outside. The leopard was a colonel, more stripes than he had and higher ranking than he was. John gave a curt salute before striding away. The leopard bent his head as he ducked under the flaps of the tent.

"General Williams Sir," said the leopard as he saluted, before brushing fresh snow off his shoulders. The general acknowledged his presence with a brief nod.

"Colonel Brown, what news do you bring me?" asked the general, dreading the reply. Whenever the colonel went for him, it was only to bring bad news.

The leopard must have read his mind for he said, "Not exactly bad news Sir, but I have a feeling why the main base is being spared from a particle beam strike."

General Williams sat up with interest, his back now fully straight.

"Why's that?" he asked curiously.

"Well…it may be that those aliens wish to capture us alive. They obviously know the higher ranking army officials will be taking shelter in the main base and have avoided doing anything to completely annihilate us," the leopard spoke in a hushed voice, all the while eyeing the general closely.

The general gave a dark chuckle. "Not bringing bad news you say?"

"Sorry Sir, but what I've said may have been just a hunch," lied the leopard; his gut feeling knew better and most of the times, his gut feeling was right, "…but if they ever do get us…we may have to consider a permanent solution to prevent us from leaking information."

The hint of suicide was unmistakable and the general shivered at the thought.

"I understand your concerns colonel. When the time comes I…no, _we _will see to it. You may go" replied General Hans Williams with a wave of his paw. The general contemplated the words of the leopard moodily. _"When the time comes," _he brooded, "_a single shot ought to do it."_

* * *

Time seemed to have bloated and grinded to a halt, unwilling to let go of the past. Or at least that was how John thought. Their base succeeded in holding out against the seemingly unending waves of enemies eventually, though at a great cost. Half of their troops were lost and all sentry guns and main battle cannons alike had sustained severe damage. Many a times they were nearly overwhelmed, but they stood resolute against the dark angry night, brothers in arms.

John also had a good look at his enemy when the battle finally withered off around midnight as counter-attacks came at half an hour intervals and their main enemy became frostbites from the blizzard that foloowed. John Husky, upon closer inspection, had only one word for his attackers, _hideous_. They were some sort of overgrown insect, eerie blue eyes stared out of their muddy brown egg shaped heads. Their hides were unusually thick and had a greenish hue. Two pairs of wings were attached to its back, which meant they could fly.

Even their weapons were equally odd; their gun had eleven pink translucent tubes attached to the top and was arrow shaped in design. Worst still, they were deadly; at least to anyone who stood in the open. The gun's projectile was capable of homing in onto any target and could pack a nasty punch. However, the projectile was surprisingly ineffective when countering vehicles or fortified structures.

"_A good thing too," _thought John, "I_ guess that foxhole saved my life… in a way."_

Many others were not so lucky; especially those who fought in the open were massacred. Despite its flaws, one capability of the gun was that should 7 of those projectiles be embedded in an enemy, they would explode; dealing fatal internal damage to the unfortunate soul who was struck.

When daylight fell upon Titanus II again, the smoldering ruins which were once their base greeted them; and the full extent of the damage dealt became known. Massive craters dotted their immediate surroundings and a gaping hole lay smack in the middle of the administrative block. Even the ground beneath John's feet was mutilated by plasma scorch marks and wet with fresh blood. Bodies were littered here and there, and many of them remained despite the base's personals best efforts to burry them last night. The carnage startled John, he had ever seen a corpse before but the murder committed here was on an unimaginable scale.

Thankfully, he never dealt with the bodies for his squad was assigned to be lookouts. John was grateful he lost no men in his squad. The worst injury they had had been from Cooper when the gun turret he had been controlling at the west wall exploded. Miraculously, all Cooper received was a burnt wing. Lucky bastard.

And now four hours later here he was, reminiscing about the distant past and wondering the fate of the other military compounds. So far, no word of their survival or destruction had reached their quiet outpost. Breaking him out of his reverie was the cackle of his communicator and the sharp voice of Private Bryans.

"Sir, our shift is up. No activity reported on my side. Over," the private announced.

"Very good. We'll wait for the rest to report in first before making a move," replied Husky. No sooner had he spoken when an influx of incoming transmissions came flooding in.

"Samson here, nothing spotted. Over,"

"Carp reporting, no activity observed. Over,"

"Wayne in, nothing's up. Over,"

When the many different variations in his team's lookout report were finally recited, John rerouted his communicator to HQ.

"Captain John Husky of Black One squad reporting, no movement sighted. Over,"

After a pregnant pause, there as still no reply. John scratched his head; maybe his communicator was on the wrong channel. He removed his headset and inspected it.

"_Nope, nothing wrong."_

As he fitted his headset snuggly back on, it suddenly burst into life.

"This is Alpha team 5! Requesting back-up! We're being overrun at the admin bl……."a desperate voice bellowed before being abruptly cut off. In the background of the transmission, he heard the dying wail of a siren and the evil cackle of gun fire; the sounds of war. John gave an involuntary gasp, their base had been attacked!

"This is Black One reporting! We were on a scouting mission and all members of the squad are presently on the base's outskirts, is there any way we can assist?" John replied but deep in his heart, a gut feeling pervaded him once more that their base was long gone.

Another long pause. And then a voice from across the line broke the silence.

"This is General Hans Williams. Military Installation 740 is …lost…Black one, head for coordinates 56Y76R56E…the pick up point for evacuation is there. However, the transport is leaving at approximately 1600 hours so you guys better double time it. Gather any survivors you find and avoid all other military bases at all costs…word has just reached us we're the last ones left on Tiranus still holding out. Ensure high command knows of this new alien threat. Good luck soldier…Out,"

The line went dead. John breathed deeply and curled his paws into a fist to prevent them from shaking. Cooper had been in the base since he was still recovering from the burn, which meant he might have been……

"_No, don't think about that now. You've got a job to finish Husky and a team waiting on you,"_

He switched the communicator back to his team's channel and delivered the grim news.

"Guys, this just in. Our base has been taken. We are to head for coordinates 56Y76R56E for evacuation. We have four hours before the transport leaves." A stunned silence greeted him when the tale was told. It was Private Tyrone Bryans who recovered first.

"Was there word on anyone who survived the attack?" he asked. John could almost imagine the rest of his squad looking intensely at him right now as they waited for a reply.

"No…all the general said was that they were under attack. Meet at checkpoint 5, just off the forest at Sector 3 for evacuation. We are to meet by…" John paused and checked his watch, "…1330 hours. Double time it. Over and out."

Cooper had been Bryan's pal and the news must have been hard on him. This was the reason why Husky chose not to get too personal to anyone. In war, a relationship could end with a single shot and that was another thing fifteen years of past military experiences had also taught him.

It had torn John's heart when she died. They both had been prepared for something like that of course; who doesn't when your job involves your life? But all the same, his soul died the day that single streak of plasma struck her heart. Aileen was his world and still was his world even though seven years had passed since she passed away.

"_Passed away," _snorted John to himself, "_A beautiful phrase for an event so ugly." _He buried away the memories of her which had suddenly resurfaced. Getting sentimental on the job was something John avoided.

With that, he shouldered his trusty rifle and trudged through the knee-deep snow, his heart heavier than his steps.

* * *

Cooper fired a single shot from his plasma pistol before ducking for cover again as a volley of laser greeted him. The wall was speckled with fresh laser marks as the shots showered it. Cooper hastily reached for a new cartridge, all the while careful not to brush anything against his bandaged right lower wing. A dull explosion rang throughout the building, raining dust on the avian as the roof shuddered.

"_On the plus side," _thought Zack Cooper, "_At least those bugs aren't here."_

The insect like creatures which assaulted them last night were mysteriously absent, only to have been replaced by an odder set of creatures. A gang of dwarf like abominations now besieged their base. They had odd metallic devices which were fastened onto their backs and an hour of fighting led Cooper to discover they were breathing apparatus. Moments before Cooper had accidentally knocked the device off a back of one of them, leading the poor creature to suffocate. Their legs resembled stumps meant for hobbling and lanky arms attached to a stout body which was lightly armored. A single well placed shot could easily rip through their flimsy armor. As Cooper found out they were pathetic enemies. They only reason why they were winning this fight however, was their numbers.

Three hours after his team left for their lookout mission; which the avian had been denied due to his burn and a paranoid medic, a swarm of those creatures came seemingly out of nowhere. Cooper would later learn they had landed through an orbital shock drop capsule when one of those things came crashing into the ruins of the admin block.

Zack Cooper darted his head from around the corner and successfully shot one of the creatures who came too close to the wall. The bugger squealed as the plasma ate away his chest. Cooper ducked once more when a hail of plasma returned the favor.

"_I should get to the other side of the doorway,"_ thought Cooper, "_At least I can get away if the going gets too tough."_ The avian had been holding out against a small swarm of those creatures that had spilled into the lift lobby of the medical block. He had been originally helping out a team of medics evacuate several severely wounded patients from the block but thanks to an ambush, he was separated from them. Now, through a series of running firefights, he found himself pinned down at the entrance leading into the main corridor. An unfaltering wave of bright blue projectiles forced him to retreat further back along the wall.

"_Ok…On the count of ten I sprint to the other side of the entrance," _Cooper promised himself. He gripped his blaster tightly and inhaled deeply.

"_One…two…three……Ten!"_

Upon reaching ten, he made a mad dash for the other side. He felt something brush against his tail feather and a stinging pain on his left thigh as he was showered with plasma shot by the aliens but he ignored them. The distance seemed incredibly long despite the fact it was a mere three meters to the other side. With a great leap, he jumped into the air at the last meter of the run, before rolling onto the floor safely.

He had barely time to recover when a new threat presented itself. One of the monsters somehow gained the courage to rush up to the entrance to surprise him. Cooper made an attempt to raise his blaster as the little creature burst around the corner and aimed its plasma pistol for his head. In that split second, Cooper knew he would never shoot the alien in time and his life possibly ended here.

The creature grunted in triumph and its tiny fingers was in the motion of squeezing the trigger when its left eye exploded. Its dark blood was splattered all over Cooper. The creature swayed on the spot for a moment before crumpling onto the floor. Cooper gawked at the sight for a second before turning to see his savior. His hero appeared in the form of a female golden retriever clad in an army medic uniform and more importantly, armed with a very big rifle.

"Get down," she ordered in a strong voice which exerted authority. Cooper gratefully abided and scrambled to a corner. The retriever squeezed the trigger and sent a rocket grenade careening into the swarm of creatures. They screeched in fright and made a futile attempt to run but it was no good. They were all devoured in the ensuring fireball which exploded in the lift lobby. When the dust settled, the wrecked remains of the lobby were all that was left. The stench of burnt flesh permeated the air.

"Thanks!" gasped Cooper, unsteadily rising to his feet. The retriever offered him a paw and he grasped it. She pulled him up and eyed his bandaged wing and singed tail feather. The retriever was rather pretty; her delicate features were framed by wavy golden bangs which half concealed her left eye. The eyes were a cerulean blue and sparkling. Despite her feminine looks, an aura of confidence and pride oozed from her. "_A tough and hot chick if anything", _mused Zack Cooper to himself.

"You alright?" she asked.

Cooper nodded, "I will be once we're out of here."

She grinned. "Fair enough, let's go. I was escaping this place when I bumped into you. Follow me." She tore off for the fire-escape stairwell which lay to the left, her long golden locks trailing behind her. Cooper went after the retriever.

"So what's your name?" he panted as he finally caught up with her graceful loping strides.

"Sara," she replied simply, "and yours?'

"Zack, Zack cooper," Cooper said, "So how are we getting out? Those things have the entire base surrounded."

"Oh, you'll see," she smiled rather cryptically.

They darted through the door of the stairwell and sprinted up the steps; two at a time. "You might want to be careful," Sara remarked, "The stairwell may collapse. The whole building has been weakened significantly thanks to last night's bombardment,"

No sooner had she spoken when Cooper heard a sharp crack. Next thing he knew, the steps under him gave way. Zack flailed his arms wildly as he frantically tried to grab the banister. Fortunately, Sara caught him by the scruff of his neck.

"If this keeps up I'll be in your debt. Thanks again!" wheezed Cooper as he gripped the banister and hauled himself up. Sara chuckled. As Zack turned around, he saw a large gaping hole where the stairs once were. Had he fallen, he would have plunged two floors down to the basement. Not enough to die but enough to break a few bones.

The pair clambered up two more stories before exiting the stairwell at a gloomily dark corridor. The walls to the left were completely covered in plywood. The paint was peeling off the walls and the floor tiles were grimy and cracked due to years of neglect. Cooper recognized the place as the abandoned section of the medical block

Zack and Sara dashed along the empty corridor. "Almost there," Sara muttered softly. Just as they were about to turn into a new corridor, the corridor turning in front of them exploded in a flurry of brilliant blue flames. The pair was thrown backwards by the force of the explosion.

Cooper rose to his feet first and pulled Sara up. As they both ran back from where they came from, a swarm of the dwarf creatures they encountered earlier appeared at the stairwell, barring the way. The creatures cackled in their tiny evil voices. Cooper groaned and spun his head around. A dull stomp rang through the building, followed by another, than another. The stomps grew louder and louder and even the creatures at the stairwell fell silent, eyeing the end of the corridor apprehensively. A massive shadow was cast upon the corridor turning, a shadow which obviously belonged to something enormous. And then, from straight out of a nightmare the monster appeared. Cooper gave an even more audible groan. _"Damn!"_

The monster was massive. He stood towering over the pair, his head brushing against the roof. A helmet rested upon his head, its orange visage obscuring his face.

Sturdy blue armor covered the monster's body while a few spikes sprouted from its back. Gripped in its right hands was an enormous gun and in its left hand was an even larger shield. The creatures behind Cooper and Sara grunted once more and they both turned to look. Another monster that was the exact replica of the one facing them had joined those creatures.

The monster in front of the pair growled and held a tiny metallic device. It glimmered despite the lack of light. Cooper flinched, the device seemed innocent enough but it could very well be a torture apparatus or grenade of some sort. What happened next was unexpected.

"**Surrender yourselves to the Covenant or perish. We do not wish to harm you; comply and you will live**," the gravelly voice which emanated from the device rang out. The avian blinked. They knew their language?

"Alright, this is our reply," Sara smiled at the great brute in front of her. She hugged Cooper at the waist and dove head first into the plywood. The plywood shattered but it was not the only thing to break. The glass window behind it fragmented, disintegrating into a thousand glittering shards. For a moment it seemed surreal, Sara embracing Cooper as they flew out of the window. The shards of glass danced around them, all the while blinking merrily in the brilliant sunlight. Everything lay suspended in the air, time had stopped and eternity had come.

The magical moment flitted away quick as it came. The ground below was showered with glass as they came plummeting to the earth and the pair landed with a 'thump' on the soft grass below.

"Er…Zack?" Sara said softly. The avian looked up.

'You can let go now," Sara said, pointing to his wings which were wrapped tightly around her waist. Cooper looked down and quickly released his embrace.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his face going red.

"We better run, they'll be after us now," Sara spoke as she hastily picked herself up. Cooper followed as he threw one last glance at the window from where they leapt from. Unexpectedly, their attackers did not bother to even take a last few potshots at them.

As they ran, Sara spoke briskly into the communicator fastened onto her ears.

"Monty, change of plans. I can't meet you on the rooftop as arranged, we bumped into a whole gang of those brutes while en route there. Get your vehicle to meet us at the medical block's back garden. Sara out,"

"Vehicle?" asked Cooper.

"Vehicle," confirmed Sara and pointed at the sky.

The avian turned his gaze up and gasped. It was the same flying contraption which assailed his team the very last night. The machine emitted a low wail and was soaring upwards in a graceful arc. Sunlight glinted on its surface as the machine caught the sun. But its elegance ended there, the vehicle suddenly stopped air and its nose began to tilt.

"Oh no…not again…Get out of the way!" ordered Sara as she ran for cover. Cooper gaped at the machine for a moment before making a run for it. The vehicle plunged down but succeeded in swooping upwards again, its base barely brushing the hard earth. The hovercraft sped across the grassy lawn of the garden before giving one last throaty purr and shuddering to a complete stop.

Sara was furious as she stomped towards the machine and its dazed looking pilot who had emerged from under the hull.

"You said you had this thing under control!" shrieked Sara, "Honestly, what's the deal with men's ego when it comes to cars? You could have just said you can't fly the bloody thing, full stop!"

The pilot, who was a feline with a black coat of fur, grinned sheepishly.

"I _could _fly the bloody thing but I ran out of gas you see and the aliens don't seem too enthusiastic about refilling my ride…" he smiled as he flicked a dark fringe of hair behind his ears suavely.

"Oh _ha ha,_ _really_ witty. And those aliens call themselves the Covenant by the way, if your bloated ego can digest that fact," she fumed, "Can this thing still fly by the way?"

"It can… I think," replied the cat as he glanced at the machine with his two topaz eyes.

"If we're flying, you certainly aren't steering this thing," Sara retorted.

"Maybe I could give flying this thing a shot…I've got a certificate in driving hover assault crafts and was briefly part of the Ninth Air Regiment," Cooper cut in.

"So was I," scowled Monty as he gave Cooper a dark look.

"There we go I was right. Males _do _have an issue with their ego when it comes to cars. Let's not waste time, Cooper, you drive," Sara replied, throwing Monty a dirty look.

"Ah, she looks so pretty when she's angry," said Monty serenely. Sara threw him an even dirtier look.

Like everything else the Covenant used, the contraption was alien looking. Its front hull was a bulbous purplish nose which sheltered the pilot inside. Two stubby wings emerged from either sides of the machine. Each had a compact engine attached to its end which produced a bright glow. The machine's behind consisted of a bulb shaped engine; or at least Cooper _assumed_ it was an engine.

With a great shove, Cooper lifted its front hull up, which acted as a cover for the pilot and as a door. Cooper realized he could see through the hull from inside, though from outside it was opaque. "_A two way mirror…neat,"_ thought Cooper. However, the interiors of the contraption seemed too small for three adults.

"Er…Sara? Is there enough space for three of us?" Cooper asked, eyeing the cramped space beneath the hull with doubt. The 'cockpit' resembled that of a hover-bike, you simply placed your legs on either sides of the seat.

"It'll be a squeeze," replied Sara. With that, Cooper hopped onboard.

"Turn the engine on by squeezing those two thrusters. The main problem we have is that I can't figure out how to control the speed and how to make this baby fly when I want to," said Monty pointedly. Cooper hesitantly clambered onto the contraption. Sara got on behind him while Monty succeeded in cramping himself after her, his buttocks almost leaving the seat.

"Watch my tail!" hollered the feline as the front hull closed in upon them; shrouding the trio in semi-darkness, save for the illumination provided by the control screen. Monty tucked his velvety tail between his thighs. Cooper clenched both his wings onto the thrusters and urged them forwards while compressing the thrusters slightly. It worked, the hovercraft jerked forwards.

Sara leaned forwards and hugged his waist as the vehicle gave an untimely jolt. The avian felt Sara's soft arms wrap around him and her moist breath on his neck. Cooper blushed and was suddenly grateful for the poor lighting in the cockpit; his face was now a crimson red.

"Head for the east side of the compound, it's just by the main guardhouse. There's a hole in the wall we can escape through," she ordered. Her voice sounded clear and sharp due to their proximity to each other. Cooper nodded and pushed the machine onwards. So far, he dared not try flying it. Anyway, they were going at a nice steady speed, zipping past the many pine trees which littered the back garden. The snow beneath them stirred all around the machine in great clouds of white flecks. The east wall was just coming into view when……

"Ah shit…" muttered Cooper. A gaggle of the stubby little aliens they fought with earlier emerged from the massive hole in the wall. They cackled and began firing wildly at the flying machine. The pink projectiles they fired fizzed out upon contact with the machine, though a ripple of energy was generated each time the projectile struck the vehicle. Cooper was grateful their hovercraft had an over shield.

"What the hell's going on? I can't see!" yelled Monty somewhere from behind.

"You should be grateful for that," replied Cooper as he gave the machine a sharp turn, splattering the creatures with a wave of snow. The ruined wall was swept away from sight as he maneuvered the machine away. The grunts of the dwarf like creatures behind them faded as the vehicle sped back through the garden.

"Plan B?" asked Cooper.

"Just what I feared… looks like we have to try exit 2A, but I bet the Covenant has it covered. Entrance 4C is the only place I'm sure our guys are still controlling but there's a nasty firefight going on and it's four kilometer away," replied Sara.

"Feels wrong, abandoning our men like that," murmured Cooper. The ambient noise of distant gunfire and explosions rang in the distance.

"Technically we're retreating, not ditching our lads," chirped Monty as he threw a furtive glance at his back.

The machine finally got onto a road which ran along the remnants of the medical block. Not a soul was in sight; only mounds after mounds of rubble lined the deserted streets. To the trio's right lay the medical block, and to their left was the remains of an army barrack. Its twisted metallic pillars skewered the partially caved in roof and a fire burned gloomily from within. As they raced along the road, stretch after stretch of devastation greeted them. But yet, no one in sight. Only the bodies of the fallen accompanied the trio in their lonely journey.

Cooper glumly watched the wrecked streets whiz pass as he pushed the machine onwards, eager to escape the piece of hell they were in. A low rumbling noise suddenly broke into Cooper's thoughts. He swung his head to where he heard the disturbance from.

With an almighty crash, an entire section of wall which once stood to the left came tumbling down. Thick clouds of dust rolled into the road, momentarily leaving Cooper shrouded in a blinding fog of white. The machine was showered with a wave of plaster and chunks of metal.

"What the…" spluttered Monty from behind.

Cooper pulled the machine to a halt and squinted through his dust smeared hull. There was an intimidating large shadow outside, right where the wall had once been. Cooper didn't trust that the owner of the shadow was friendly. Just as he started the engine, another shadow appeared to the machine's front.

"Awww damn…" swore Cooper under his breath. He went for the plasma pistol stuffed in his cargo pants. If things got ugly, he'd rather let his gun do the talking. Behind him, Sara cursed softly and a few nudges in Cooper's back told him she was attempting to pull her rifle out.

The figure in front held out a hand, gesturing the machine to stop. As the dust settled, Cooper's heart fell further; his suspicions were right, it was the Covenant. The figure belonged to the giant alien clad in heavy armor Cooper almost surrendered to earlier. The giant gave a few hoarse grunts as he waved a massive arm at the streets ahead.

"What's he doing?" muttered Cooper to Sara as the 'conversation' dragged on for another ten seconds.

"He thinks we're one of them…and he might be a leader of some sort, looks like he's giving us orders," Sara quietly replied.

Cooper glanced to his left where the wall had collapsed and to his horror, noted a new vehicle occupying the space. The vehicle was a tank, with a sheer wall of sturdy metal for its front. As with all other Covenant vehicles Cooper encountered, it was mostly purple; the Covenant had a fetish for that color. Two barrels emerged from the brute, one was short and stubby, the other slightly longer. The avian was certain this beast could put his puny hovercraft in a world of hurt if he made one wrong move. The giant who had been talking suddenly stopped and waved them through. Cooper could not believe his luck, had the creature asked him to step out of the vehicle the ruse would have been over.

Sara and Monty heaved a sign of relief upon seeing the giant's arm gesture. Cooper grinned and gave the thrusters an overenthusiastic squeeze. What Cooper failed to notice was that a hidden pair of triggers lay behind each thruster. A dazzling rush of cyan light burst forth from beneath the machine and struck the giant squarely on his chest.

The monster released a guttural scream as the plasma tore through his armor with ease. A pungent fume of cooked flesh wafted into the cockpit of the hovercraft.

"Whoops?" said Cooper as Sara groaned and Monty swore audibly.

The tank which had been immobile moments before twitched into life. Its whole body slowly revolved on the spot to face the hovercraft; its two gun barrels glinted in the sunlight. Cooper gulped.

"Now look what you've done! Let's get moving!" yelled Monty frantically. Zack Cooper rammed the thrusters forward and the machine took off in a shot. The tank fired a single round of plasma which narrowly missed them and struck the building behind instead. The tank jerked forwards with a groan. The contraption was evidently slower but on these narrow streets, even the advantage the hovercraft had could be lost.

"Where'd that thing go?' asked Sara, her wary eyes scanning their surroundings. The tank had disappeared off the main road. Cooper had a bad feeling.

"Bloody hell!" cried Monty.

The tank had magically reappeared straight in their faces; it was emerging from the ruins of a barrack in front of the trio. Cooper swerved the machine to the right just in the nick of time as the behemoth of a machine fired again. The powerful bolt of plasma careened into the road behind the hovercraft, leaving a smoking crater.

Things went downhill in a frantic pace from there. A gang of the dwarf aliens they almost crashed into at the east wall popped out further down the road. A look of recognition dawned on their ugly faces as they gaped at the hovercraft. They grunted and began firing at the machine.

"Hang on!" shouted Cooper as he urged the hovercraft forwards. The creatures, seeing the hovercraft had every intent of knocking them over, leapt out of the way; squealing as they did. The danger was not yet over however. As the trio turned into a new road, two hovercrafts, almost identical to the one they were in save for the fact they were smaller, appeared at the end of the lane.

"Time for a shortcut!" hollered Cooper. He gave the hovercraft a sharp turn into a side alley which lay between the main mess hall and the ammunition storage shed.

"What are you doing? It's a dead end!" barked Sara.

"If we can't go around the buildings we're going to have to go through it," replied the avian. The two pursuing hovercrafts swung into the alley and darted straight for the trio, their guns ablaze.

Cooper gave the triggers a squeeze once more and a single dart of plasma was discharged, heading straight for the door at the side alley's dead end. The door was hurled off its hinges and somersaulted into the building. The hovercraft sped into the building's interior, with two other hovercrafts hot on its tail.

Zack Cooper recognized the building as the main mess hall from the rows of tables and benches which lined the deserted hall. Pale shafts of light drifted in from the shattered skylight. The shadows of twisted metal beams of the skylight's frames traced the floor. The dull wail of three hovercrafts echoed across the empty hall.

"Monty, can you fire at those two buggers from where you are?" cried Cooper over the din the three machines were making.

"Lift this hull up a bit and I might be able to get a clear shot," came Monty's reply, "But you bloody well better know what you're doing here!"

"I don't, that's why they call it a learning journey," grinned Cooper.

Sara shoved the hull upwards, allowing Monty a clear view of their pursuers. Immediately, the howl of the rushing wind filled their ears; they were going very fast indeed. Cooper flinched from the ghastly sound.

"Use my rocket grenade launcher," said Sara as she carefully passed Monty her rifle, "And let's keep the editorial comments to a minimum shall we?"

"Yes sir," replied Monty as he sent a grenade hurtling at the hovercrafts. The machines dodged it easily and the grenade exploded harmlessly on the ground. A volley of plasma, freshly delivered by their two pursuers, came pelting straight for them. Cooper took a left turn and narrowly avoided the wave of plasma which struck the floor instead.

Cooper forced the machine up a flight of steps, which it did so grudgingly. Two more sharp turns found the trio rushing along a corridor.

"Time for this bird to fly," gritted Cooper through his teeth. He had a theory the controls were reversed, forcing the thrusters upwards meant steering the hovercraft downwards and vice versa.

A long glass window paneled the wall at the end of the corridor. Hopefully, Monty's distraction by keeping the two other machines pinned down under constant gunfire would allow him to pull off this ruse……

"You _do know _what you're doing right?" asked Sara doubtfully. Cooper chose not to reply, should his theory proved wrong the trio were in for a sudden death.

The moment of truth. The hovercraft hurtled nose first into the window panel, sending shards of glass tearing through the air like daggers. Blades after blades of the glittering pieces were propelled onwards by the force of the crash. The ammunition storage shed lay just below the window, its contents having a potential to be wildly explosive should anything crash into it. Cooper tugged at the thrusters, giving it a firm downwards push. For a heart stopping moment, the hovercraft refused to respond, preferring a vertical plunge to certain death.

Then, the contraption came through. With a sudden burst of speed, it soared into the heavens. Its two pursuers weren't so lucky. They erupted from the building like a shot, not realizing the trap which lay below. Their trajectory took them straight into the awaiting arms of a fiery death; the storage shed. There was a dull crunch of metal against metal as the two machines punched through the shed's roof. And then, the grand finale.

* * *

John Husky perked his ears up. Silence had been his companion for the past one hour as he lumbered through waist deep snow. He had distinctively heard a loud boom from somewhere behind him.

"_Wasn't that where the base was?"_ he wondered. John turned around.

A miniscule fireball arose from the horizon, gilding the clouds above it with a fiery glow of maroon red. Slender tendrils of flames emerged from the fireball, as if caressing the heavens. Quick as the fireball came, it died away. A dark column of smoke marked its location.

John blinked. "_What the hell?"_

* * *

The cockpit was filled with rapturous laughs and congratulatory cheers. Even Sara, the ever 'mature and sensible female', could not help but chortle along. Monty seemed to have forgiven any past grievances he had with Cooper.

"Did you see that? That fireball must have been what, a good hundred meters wide? The Covenant sure took one helluva' beating!" whooped Monty as he flicked his tail excitedly.

"They took more than a beating I'm sure. We'll be on their wanted list now," laughed Sara. She seemed bemused.

Cooper grinned and replied, "Three fugitives on the run after blowing up half the Covenant ground forces; this is starting to be like some cheesy action flick," He gazed at the blackened plumes of smoke rising in the distance with some satisfaction. Of course they were hardly out of trouble yet. The prospect that the Lylat system was probably on the verge of a new galactic war against the Covenant was troubling. And then there was the fact that they needed to get off this planet and then there was Cooper's team….

"_I should probably look for my squad,"_ thought the avian, "_And I wonder how Bryans is doing…"_

Nope, they were definitely not out of trouble yet; still deep under its boiling, troubled surface one might add. He watched the tuffs of white clouds drift by serenely and the icy world below him pass by from the back of his flying machine. Monty was still laughing and Sara still smiling. For now, his worries seemed trivial.


	3. Rough landings

UNSC Calendar: Date Unknown, Location: Unknown, Time: Unknown

**A/N: Good news, looks like I'll be doing one more chapter since this chapter turned out surprisingly long. I'm also avoiding doing an ultra long chapter like what I did last time. Soooo… we get to know Krystal's new life and the Covenant's secret alliance all in the next chapter. Unfortunately, after chapter 4, things may quiet down for a bit. I have an important exam coming up at the end of the year and I should get revising. Remember though, this story is NOT DEAD. I can only resume writing by December so please be patient. **

**UNSC Calendar: Date Unknown, Location: Unknown, Time: Unknown **

A velvety expanse of raven black lay draped in the background. Dotted upon the silky fabric of space were miniscule pinpricks of light; the countless stars which pervaded the universe. They twinkled softly; silent other-worldly watcher which quietly contemplated the brief and trivial lives of mortals upon their pedestal in the heavens. This was the infinite majesty of the universe.

One star shone brighter than the rest; the sun. Its radiance easily outmatched the soft-hearted gleam of the distant stars. Treading upon the feral beauty of the universe was an object which distinctively did not belong there.

It was a spaceship; or at least half of it. Only its hindquarters remained, its head had been unceremoniously torn off. Twisted seams of metal still remained where the two parts of the ship had gone their divergent course. The ruined spaceship drifted serenely through the recesses of space. Its aimless meander was about to come to an abrupt halt however, for the ship was on a collision course with a turquoise planet which lay on its trek.

"_Chief…Chief…" _An echo whispered through Master Chief's helmet.

Master Chief stirred; his eyes twitched. But slumber overwhelmed him and he fell still once more.

_"Chief…Chief wake up…CHIEF!" _

With a jolt, John-117 arose. He blinked wearily. A numbing fog clouded his brain, leaving him incapacitated and incapable of comprehensive thoughts.

"Cortana…" he mumbled sleepily as he struggled to regain his memories.

"Hold on Chief, the cryogenic-sleep gas takes time to wear off. Bear with it for a while…" Cortana's sharp voice sounded clearer now. Master Chief nodded drunkenly and flopped back onto the wall of the cryogenic chamber he was in. John-117 noted for the first time an intense cramp in both his legs, the result of staying in the cramped interiors of the machine for an extended period of time. How long he had been in cyro-sleep however, he had no idea.

A little while passed and Chief began to grasp consciousness once more. As he did, a stream of thoughts enlightened him of his current situation.

He had gone through the portal with Arbiter and arrived at the Ark… guilty spark's betrayal…Johnson's death…High Charity's and Gravemind's downfall…Arbiter and him fleeing back through the portal upon firing the new halo Gravemind had built…

The fragments of John's memories which lay scattered and separated before began fitting itself together. Remembering was the key to binding everything together. A mosaic of recollections began to materialize before Master Chief. As he stumbled upon the final piece in the sequence of events, stark reality dawned on him. He had been lost in space.

Arbiter and he had attempted to escape the imminent destruction of the new halo by traveling aboard the "_Forward Unto Dawn"_. Unfortunately for Master Chief, the rear end of the ship was ripped off by the force of the exploding halo; and he was in it. The last thing he did before settling down into cyro-sleep was having Cortana activate a distress beacon in the hope that rescue would come.

_"Rescue would come…" _his last thoughts reverberated throughout his mind.

"Cortana, is rescue here?" he asked, a new hope rekindling in his heart. Perhaps he would finally escape the gloomy confines of this wrecked ship which he likened to be a tomb.

"Sadly…no," Cortana replied. Master Chief could almost feel his heart plummet and the small spark of hope he had quenched.

"However," continued Cortana, "Our ship's trajectory is taking us to an unidentified planet…a crash landing for us looks imminent. Maybe you should come take a look."

Master Chief gave the cover of his cryogenic machine a brusque shove, eager to flee from the iron casket which he had been entombed in for goodness how long. Two gloved hands clutched the sides of the machine and he unsteadily rose to his feet. His bones were reluctant to feel the toil of gravity again however, for they groaned in protest. Master Chief gave an ungainly wobble as he endeavored to stand upright for what must have been in a long time.

"Done learning how to stand?" teased Cortana. Chief looked up and found a holographic projection of Cortana hovering before him.

"Yeah I think so…And aren't you supposed to only be able to appear over the holographic-flashboard anyway?" queried Master Chief.

"Turns out our ship…or half of it…have more than one holo-output point. I discovered one just outside your cyro-chamber. Two months of wandering through space gives you plenty of spare time," Cortana mused.

"_Two months…" _wondered Master Chief. It was shorter than he had expected but still, two months seemed an awfully long time.

"As I was saying, we're about to make a crash landing on an unknown planet. I've been unable to run any concise scans on it as our half of the ship lacks accurate scanners. Still from what I've been seeing, this planet seems habitable, its atmospheric composition resembles Earth though no forms of life detected yet," Cortana spoke as she gestured at the gaping hole in the ship on their left.

The planet she spoke of possessed a cerulean countenance. Ribbons of pallid white lay etched across its peaceful surface. Master Chief discerned them as clouds, and the azure blue façade meant oceans and Earth-like conditions. In one word; perfect.

"You should return back to your cyro-chamber, it's the best place to shelter in," Cortana advised, "Oh, I'll be turning off the gravity simulator by the way; we best save power to brace ourselves for the landing. We're going to require the full strength of all braking fins available on this ship. You ought to prepare magnetizing your boots,"

Master Chief nodded. With heavy steps, he made his way to a weapons cabinet at the back of the cargo hull he had been living in. Chief slid four massive digits through the grooves of the cabinet door and gave a mighty thug. The door responded first with a creak, then with an ear-throbbing screech as the metal bent under the weight of Chief's brawniness. With one final yank, the door was wrenched off its hinges and careened throughout the length of the ship.

Cortana, who had been observing Chief's exploits, seemed amused.

"You know, I could have opened that door for you via the ship's system interface," she chuckled, shaking her head at Chief's apparent folly.

Master Chief shrugged and said nothing. He turned his attention to the cabinet and retrieved an MA3 assault rifle. He examined his new found weapon with a critical eye, shook his head, and returned it to the cabinet. He stretched his arms into the hidden depths of the cabinet and pulled out a handgun with a flourish.

"Since when did you go for the smaller gun?" asked Cortana, the amusement in her voice ill disguised.

"I prefer my guns light," was Chief's curt reply. He carefully stowed the gun away in a holster fastened to his left thigh.

"As if," snorted Cortana.

To that, Master Chief shrugged once more and clambered back into the cyro-chamber. He pulled the cyro-machine's translucent canopy over him, concealing Chief behind its misty façade. He began his patient wait for the ship's violent descent, his proverbial calm disposition ever apparent in the face of mortal danger.

"_All in a days work," _he mused.

* * *

A fiery aura enveloped the ship, which was slowly eroding away under the blazing heat generated by re-entry. The sanguine tendrils of flame playfully licked the hull of the ruined spacecraft as it continued its steadfast plunge for ground. From afar, the crashing ship was nothing more but a dazzling orb of light, streaking onwards through the skies like a meteor.

Despite the ship's best efforts to resist touchdown, it eventually did. With a sickening crunch of metal against earth, the spacecraft ploughed into the awaiting ground. The ship skidded across the rolling plains it had intruded upon, churning up soil and leaving one single deeply cloven trail in its wake. Halfway through its unceremonious landing, the spaceship flipped once into the air, performing a 360 degrees somersault before continuing its frantic push onwards.

Gravity reigned supreme in the end and the ship was finally brought to a shuddering halt. Dust billowed all around the crash landing site, obscuring the spaceship behind a cover of dirt. From the wreckage, a lone man emerged through a great gash in the hull.

Master Chief surveyed his surroundings carefully, the most immediate danger to him being the Covenant. He could safely assume the Covenant were defeated of course, with their home world of _High Charity_ ripped into charred shreds with the explosion of Installation 004. To seal the Covenant's fate was the fact that the Elites had rebelled against the Covenant not to mention the Flood's attacks against them too.

The world he saw through his orange visor was a world very much like earth. The warm rays of the sun fell gently upon the shade-less, windswept grass. The grass stirred with the omnipresent wind, casting quavering shadows upon the sleeping stones of a hidden world. In the distance, magnificent mountains rose from the ground, spanning the sun drenched horizon. A stream which snaked through the dense grass bubbled merrily on Master Chief's left.

"_All in all, a place I won't mind retiring to_," pondered Master Chief as he took in the beauty of the reticent world he had just stumbled upon.

"Nice place," remarked Cortana, who now resided inside Master Chief's helmet, "Is my chip damaged by the way? I'm seeing weird symbols on the boulders to your far right."

Master Chief retrieved the data chip from the back of his helmet and inspected it.

"Looks fine," he replied. He inserted the chip back into a slot in his helmet.

Chief whipped his head around to look at the weird rocks Cortana had mentioned. He blinked twice and bent down for a closer look. Cortana was right; there _was _something on those rocks……

He carefully pulled away a pair of eclipsing vines who were entangled upon the boulder. The symbols were clearly visible now. But they were nothing Chief had ever seen.

They did not appear to be Forerunner and Covenant runes; much less any known human language. Some of the runes resembled pictures or hieroglyphics of some sort; they depicted mostly humanoid creatures that possessed bushy tails and a fox-like snout. Cortana apparently had been studying the runes too.

"Odd…I've never encountered anything like this. Those symbols definitely aren't Covenant…they do resemble the style of the Forerunners but…" her train of thoughts drifted away.

Master Chief turned his attention to the boulders themselves. They did not seem naturally made; he could almost make out a few carvings traced upon its granite surface. The boulders resembled the stumps of pillars or perhaps debris from some ancient ruins.

One particular symbol captivated Master Chief the most. It was larger than the rest and the most impressive looking.

"_Looks like a…like a…"_ Chief struggled to perceive the correct words to properly describe the symbol, "_…like a cardinal sun…"_

**Cornerian Calendar 6032****nd**** Cycle May 26****th**** 2350 Universal Time Tiranus II - Military Installation 740 **

The odor of charred flesh lingered heavily upon the acidic air. Splattered on the walls of a ruined building were the coagulated remnants of dried blood. Its sanguine façade gave a grim reminder of the battle which had occurred earlier.

A few grunts brusquely flung a limp body into a ditch which lined the debris covered road. Their short stubby legs wobbled under the weight of their load as they labored. The vile creatures squealed and grunted to each other in their crude language while they toiled.

A pair of hunters watched over them with an intimidating gaze, a hint of contempt distinguishable behind their orange visors. The grunts seemed nervous under the regal veneer of the hunters and from time to time, threw furtive glances at them.

But both hunters and grunts were forced to bow when a being of obvious authority hovered past them. The alien was seated in a hover-chair which had a graceful pair of metallic wings attached to the back and they arched above the being's head. A variety of skulls were fused onto the chair, giving the ghoulish contraption a demonic countenance.

The chair was flanked by a pair of hunters who marched, stiff back, along with the floating contraption. The alien himself was a stark contrast to the brawny hunters who surrounded. He was frail. A long neck protruded from his hunchbacked body which was already barely struggling against the tow of gravity. His bulbous forehead lay hunched over his hazel eyes; evidence of a large brain. The alien's hide was that of a muddy brown and he was dressed in robes which were ostentatiously gold; perhaps to serve as a reminder of his superiority.

A skeletal finger rested upon his lower lip and a grim smirk was painted across his ugly visage. His hover-chair finally drifted through the threshold of the wrecked administrative block and he came to a stop in a makeshift prison cell.

The prison cell consisted of four lanky poles which had been fastened to the cemented ground through the use of a blow-torch. A quavering shield of cyan emerged from the poles, completely sealing the contents of the cell. And in that cell, was none other than Colonel Brown.

A Brute who had been waiting sullenly in a dark corner strode towards the alien.

"My lord, we've met great difficulties capturing the natives alive. This is the only high ranking army official we have successfully detained. However, he has been most…uncooperative in our interrogation," the Brute groused in his gravelly voice. The Brute's sturdy armor, which was that of a deep golden color, glinted in the pale shaft of sunlight which had crept into the derelict ruins of the building. A peculiar looking helmet rested upon the Brute's head; an ornate v-shape spiked crest was attached to its top.

The alien nodded and turned his attention to his captive. The colonel stood, stoic in demeanor, in his cramped cell. The blue force field which encircled him emitted a threatening buzz, as if daring anyone foolish enough to touch it. Colonel Brown returned the alien's gaze with a callous glare, defiance clearly spelled out in his two fiery orbs.

The alien fastened a translator around the midsection of his elongated neck.

"Do you know who I am, prisoner?" the alien boomed. The leopard said nothing but replied with a black look.

"I am the High Prophet of the Covenant. The Prophet of Redemption to be concise. I can place your life in great pain…or I can release you. All I implore you to do is tell us what we want to know," the prophet continued, his voice suddenly turning sleek.

Colonel Brown snorted. "Release me? As if you're that kind….I've seen what you bastards did to my soldiers and this is all I'm giving you!" upon finishing his angry reply, he spat venomously at the force field. The spit sizzled upon contact with the force field however, vanishing into a wisp of vapor in the blink of an eye.

The Brute who had spoken earlier growled and raised his gargantuan rifle but the prophet stopped him. If anything, the prophet seemed bemused.

"Feisty… Well, since you wish to go that way…" the prophet gave a curt wave of his scrawny arms and a hunter beside him nodded and scurried out of the building. Silence followed. A few minutes later, the dull stomps of the hunter could be heard once more. The hunter marched into the building; in his wake a fully hooded figure.

The prophet momentarily switched off his translator and spoke in a hushed voice to the Brute, "What's the story with our captive?"

"He attempted suicide my lord. Thankfully our soldiers stunned him before he could shoot himself. His superior had already committed suicide and we believe he was following suit. Would you like us to carry on with the interrogation? Or are you using our guest?" the Brute gestured towards the hooded figure. His movements seemed overly graceful for his clumsy race; almost as if he was treating the figure with deference.

The hooded figure was draped in a sable coat. Its long hood shrouded the facial features of the figure under a mysterious shadow. The diminutive figure stretched its head towards the prophet, its gloved hands motioning the prophet to come closer. The prophet hastily lowered his neck, his hover-chair leaning sideways as he did. The figure whispered into the listening ears of the prophet as he lapped up the words he heard eagerly, interest painted on the prophet's face. After a few moments, the silent conversation halted.

"Our guest will take over; bring in prisoner 3A and 3B. That will be all," the prophet replied simply. The Brute made a courteous bow, turned and left.

Colonel Brown gazed at the proceedings with apprehensive eyes, dreading the torture which awaited him. The Covenant had already employed an arsenal of standard torture tactics against him; laser whippings, plasma branding, death threats…but the suspense of the unknown billowed fear into his heart. Who was that hooded figure?

Prisoners 3A and 3B were led at gun point into the admin block and Colonel Brown grimaced upon seeing the prisoner's faces. One of them was a close friend of his.

"According to our guest here, Prisoner 3A…or Jack Black as your people name him…is a friend of your…yes?" the prophet grinned, "And I believe Prisoner 3B…or rather Clara Fields…is Jake's mate."

Jake Black was a lupine. Dishievlled locks of ebony hair fell over his cerulean eyes. His dark grey fur was matted with blood and shreds of torn cloth hung limply from his muscular frame. The wolf stared at Colonel Brown with desperate eyes.

The leopard gaped back at Jake helplessly, a sense of impending doom foreboded this; and Brown could feel it.

Two Brutes hooked Clara by the arms, holding her upright. Her slender legs dangled in the air, toes an inch above the ground. A great mane of brunette brown drooped over Clara's feminine face, obscuring half her pretty visage. Despite the feline's capture, Clara glared fiercely at the prophet, her emerald eyes boring into his.

The prophet spoke again with deliberate slowness, relinquishing the moment.

"Yes, as I've said, Jake and Clara are mates. They appear to be extremely close too…according to our guest, Jake plans to propose to Clara next month for her hand in marriage. Such pure, undulated love. The bond between them is close…and a pity this magical bond should end for your friend, don't you think?" mocked the prophet, savoring the foul words which rolled off his vile tongue.

The leopard winced upon hearing those words. He had no idea how the hooded figure knew so much but those words were true. Jack was like a surrogate son to him …and Jake had been dating Clara for a while now…

"Let me tell you what I intend to do. I will slowly dismember Clara in front of your friend Jake here. Her pretty face will be burned by plasma and her remains set alight. All the while Jake will watch…and suffer. Most likely he will be driven to insanity and his suicide will follow suit," crooned the prophet, his face alight with malice.

"NO! Take me! Not Clara! She had no part in this!" roared Jake feverishly, beads of tears brewing in the corner of his eyes. A feral growl erupted from his throat and he strained fruitlessly against the vice like grip of the Brutes but to no avail.

He stared at Colonel Brown pleadingly, "Please…Give them what they want…Please Luke…" Jake seemed stricken with terror. Clara glanced at the Colonel with frightened eyes despite her best efforts to remain calm.

The leopard gulped and shuddered. His mind was in turmoil. On one hand giving the Covenant information was betrayal to Corneria…on the other hand he could not possibly let Jake be tormented like this. Conflicting thoughts and reasons raced through his head, each clashing against each other, each as illogical, and each as important. Colonel Brown had always been one of logic and reasoning, but with his friend in peril, an obsidian fog clouded his thinking.

A crooked smile appeared on the Prophet's face. He raised a skeletal digit.

"You have three seconds. One…"

The Colonel opened his mouth but no words came out. A frenzied wave of thoughts buffeted his brain. He shivered violently, panic on the verge of overcoming his once calm disposition.

"Two…"

The leopard scrunched his eyebrows and clenched his fingers into a fist. What should he do?

"Three…"

"WAIT!" bellowed Colonel Brown as a Brute unsheathed an energy sword from his buckle. The leopard panted and continued, "I'll…I'll talk,"

The prophet smiled serenely. "Very good. All I ask is you give me the code to your Internal Data Storage system. Everything we need to know is in there."

Colonel Brown paused, doubt in his face. For a moment, it appeared as if he had lost the will to speak. And the, the numbers came.

"4739867375037583E-Alpaha Foxtrot 9" he rattled in an undertone. With that he inhaled deeply, sorely hating himself for the damage he had wrought.

The prophet brought up a holographic screen from his chair and tapped the numbers in. Rows of jumbled up numerals and letters flickered across the screen but the prophet gave a quiet smile.

"The code was correct. Excellent," he replied coolly. The prophet swiftly whipped his head around to face the Brute and gave a brief nod.

What happened next was so sudden and unexpected it stole the Colonel's breath away.

The Brute, who had been supervising the interrogation, retrieved a plasma pistol and trained it for Clara's head. Without hesitation, the monster pulled the trigger.

The blast of the gun echoed hauntingly across the room. Clara crumpled to the floor in a heap. Spots of garnet lay sprinkled across the cold floor; like the petals of a fallen flower. Blood surged through her wound, draining away Clara's wasted youth. The puddle of crimson red which accumulated below Clara's prone form swelled and trickled rapidly through the grooves in the cemented ground. A shadow of a smile lingered upon her fair face, unseeing eyes misting over.

Jake froze. His jaws were ajar, his two cerulean orbs in disbelief. For Colonel Brown and Jake Black, the world stood still.

The Brute raised the snout of his cruel gun and aimed it for Jake. In a single shot, all of Jake's anguish ceased to exist. In a single shot, the hopes and dreams of an innocent man ended. A single shot from a war the lupine and his mate never wanted.

Colonel Brown collapsed to the ground on two knees, his fur brushing against the shield. His body was scorched by the shield's heat but the leopard ignored the meager discomfort of the burn. The grief in his heart was more severe…more heart wrenching.

The over-shield vanished inexplicably but the leopard made no effort to stand. The Brute strode with great purpose towards Colonel Brown. The executor hoisted his massive arm, weapon in hand. The leopard stared down the barrel of the Brute's merciless gun, his face suddenly morphing into that of composure.

Many said that when your life approached its tail, flashbacks of your life would begin running. But Colonel Luke Brown saw none of that. All he saw was regret. All he saw were the faces of his fallen soldiers. All he saw was the light at the end of a long tunnel.

The Brute squeezed the trigger, and then he saw no more.

**UNSC Calendar 2553 May 26****th**** 0545 Hours (Earth Time)**

**UNSC Security Council, New York Branch **

The chairman snored loudly, oblivious to his uncomfortable sleeping position. His head rested upon a venerable antique desk while one arm dangled over the side of the table. Ambient marigold light gently gilded the furniture in its warm cradle.

"_You have incoming transmission_," a robotic voice piped up. The computer which lay on the desk came to life with a barely audible whirl. The words 'Incoming transmission' flashed across its screen and a series of beeps filled the room.

The chairman awoke with a jolt. He blinked blearily and stifled a yawn. He squinted at his digital wristwatch through bloodshot eyes and swore.

"_2a.m…Whoever who's calling better have a damn good reason _…" he thought, annoyed that his slumber should be disturbed.

He grudgingly sat up and accepted the transmission. A uniformed man appeared on the screen, his expression was that of worry.

"Good afternoon Sir, I hope I'm not disturbing you," the man said, his eyes raking in the tired form of the chairman.

"It's 2a.m here actually…anyway what's the news?" replied the chairman as he straightened his suit.

"Well…it's about Admiral Hood Sir…apparently he claims he has the authority to pursue a fleeing Covenant convoy and to engage them," the man answered.

"You called me just for this?" the chairman gritted through his teeth.

"That's not all. The admiral took our fleets at Jericho and Sector 7-A…basically our main fleets…and brought them 10 light-years beyond Harvest where the Covenant is presumed to be hiding," the man hastily answered, "…Sir," he hurriedly added, observing the chairman with a held breath.

The chairman felt his stomach ice over and his eyes bulge. Crimson red was quickly spilling all over his flabby face.

"He WHAT!?" snarled the chairman, livid.

The uniformed man winced. "Sorr-ry if it the news came late Sir, but the Admiral claimed through paragraph 9 section 96A, should a military official be directly threatened with possible enemy retaliation he or she can employ a pre-emptive move without notifying higher author-" stuttered the man.

The chairman cut him off angrily. "I know paragraph 9 section 96A thanks very much!" growled the chairman, "Order him this instant to withdraw to Harvest! A 25 year war just ended and that bloody idiot wants to trigger a new one!"

"Er…problem is he's beyond our comm network…I'll try to…" replied the flustered man, perspiration glistering on his forehead.

"You won't try, you _will _contact him. Get him to call me ASAP. That will be all," fumed the chairman. He punched the off switch of the computer with a little more force than necessary and flung himself back to his armchair. The chairman drummed his stubby fingers on the desk in staccato, anger still simmering in his eyes.

25 years of conflict with the Covenant had already nearly torn the UNSC apart. The once tenacious alliance of men had been withered down to a gaggle of war torn states; war torn states which lacked funds for reconstruction and were screaming for independence. The Confederation of China was already considering self determination, together with the Central European Republic and numerous other nations. A god damn quagmire if the chairman could say so.

To top off the roiling broth of chaos, the Admiral now had to go trigger happy and fuel a new war. The UNSC was depleted of resources as it was and wars certainly did _not_ contribute to a nation's coffers. And if the jarhead admiral could not be stopped in time, his new post as Security Council Chairman was in jeopardy.

He paused his vengeful thoughts and glanced through his office window. The skyline of New York City was a cornucopia of buildings and machines alike. Construction cranes arched over many of the ruined skeletons of once proud office blocks. The occasional monolith of glass and concrete rose above the wrecked cityscape while squat apartment blocks clung to its side like a vine clutching onto a tree. A UNSC pelican drop-ship swooped through the city, though in the night sky its flashing lights were the only warnings of its presence.

The chairman sighed wearily. With an index finger and thumb he pinched his nose bridge; eyes clenched shut. A dull throb of pain; most likely stress, rumbled through his head. The devastation on Earth alone was great…and that meant the UNSC needed cash; lots of it. The last thing this administration needed was a battle gone awry. Should the admiral's war go wrong, the chairman would get the flak and the retrenchment notice.

"_No…"_ cogitated the chairman aloud, eyes fluttering open "_Terrance Hood has to be stopped…at all costs," _

**UNSC Calendar 2553 May 26****th**** 2350 Universal Time, --12 light-years from Harvest, 0.2 light-years from Admiral Randall's fleet **

Fleet Admiral Terrance Hood paced the bridge of the _Divine Intervention_, his movements agitated and face scrunched in worry. He swiveled his head to glance at the massive clock on the wall. 2350 Universal Hours. The admiral sighed ad resumed pacing.

His most pressing concern was that Admiral Randall could not be reinforced in time. Barely a few weeks ago, contact had finally been made with the Covenant. A frantic pursuit led the forward fleet to an unidentified planet. Unfortunately for Admiral Randall, he was the leader of that forward fleet and the Covenant were holed up on that unidentified planet.

Little news had reached Hood of the battle that followed Randall' encounter but from the sketchy reports collected, Randall needed help; fast. Apparently, the Covenant had a larger fleet than expected.

Still, a scrap of good news did come out of this murk. Arbiter had finally been reached and had assured Admiral Hood that he would supplement the strike force with a fleet of his own. A reason for good cheer, Admiral Hood supposed.

He gazed at the window panel which lay to his back. The stars resembled streaks of silver against the inky backdrop of space. The _Divine Intervention _and the frigates in her wake were in slip-space drive but even that didn't seem fast enough. The admiral prayed Randall would hold out long enough.

**UNSC Calendar 2553 May 26****th**** 2350 Universal Time, Orbit of Unidentified Planet--12.2 light-years from Harvest**

"Damn it Rick! Watch my rear!" bellowed Pilot Jackson as he swerved his fighter to a side with ill grace. A bolt of plasma rocketed past their ship, missing by an inch.

"Sorry Sir! Won't happen again!" piped Rick as he swiveled the gun turret to face the Seraph fighter which had been skulking at their hind. A short burst of gunfire followed and the Seraph was forced to pull away.

"It _better_ not," replied Jackson as he skirted around a swarm of Seraphs which were converging upon them, "Dying is not on my agenda."

Two Seraphs however, opted to break formation from the swarm Jackson encountered and pelted after them. Jackson glanced at his scanner and sighed.

"We've got company. You know the drill," ordered Jackson.

Rick flashed a salute. "Got it boss,"

Rick grasped the controls of his gun turret and began firing upon the two stray fighters. They easily maneuvered around the line of fire but unknown to the Seraphs, that would be their downfall.

Jackson flicked the ship's weapons choice to fusion bombs and squeezed the triggers. Two missiles were forcefully pushed out from beneath the ship. Their rockets quickly ignited and they were propelled onwards with due haste. The Seraphs recognized their mistake at the instant they glimpsed the two warheads but it was too late; dodging Rick's gunfire had wasted away any chance of escape. With a flash of cyan, the fusion bomb went off. The two dots on Jackson's scanner vanished.

"Oorah!" cheered Rick. Jackson grinned but their victory was short lived.

A new wave of Seraphs had emerged from the confines of the Covenant carrier which lay just ahead; and they were all charging straight for the pair. Rick's eyes widened but it was Jackson who recovered first.

"Let's get the hell out. Give the signal to tell the rest of our squad to retreat back to our fleet," barked Jackson. Rick nodded and began issuing the orders over his head-set.

Jackson punched his after burners and the fighter streaked through space like a released phantom. The Seraphs followed, their after burners igniting as well. Jackson cursed, he was aware his Longsword fighter would never out match Seraphs in terms of speed.

With a violent jerk of the controls, Jackson executed an upwards loop just as the Seraphs released a volley of plasma. The fighter performed a graceful arch backwards, never loosing momentum for a second. Behind him, Jackson could hear Rick swear audibly; startled by the unforeseen switch of direction in gravity.

The Seraphs meanwhile pursued its course onwards, slow to absorb their quarry's abrupt transmute in course. The fighter completed the semi loop and arrived at the rear of the Seraphs. Without respite, Jackson fired his last four fusion bombs.

In a fiery display which lit up the blackened abyss of space, all seven Seraphs were devoured in the ensuring conflagration of turquoise. Jackson performed a barrel roll in good joy and sped off before the rest of the Seraphs could exact their vengeance on him.

Their fighter hastened for the UNSC carrier the _Fist of Oceania, _closely following in their wake the battered remnants of Jackson's squad. Rick was still smiling when a glimpse at his scanner wiped the grin off the young pilot's face.

"Sir, there's more of them! And looking by their speeds they're gonna beat us to the carrier!" moaned Rick, his visage ashen white. Jackson glanced at his scanner; Rick was right, at their speeds there was no doubt who win the race.

Jackson flattened his head-set to his ears and spoke, "Squad, Captain Jackson here. The Seraphs are going to overtake us soon. Our best move is to make a stance here while we wait for reinforcements,"

His squad muttered their replies somberly and hastily assumed an alternate block-square formation behind Jackson, a standard move when on the defensive. Jackson groaned in an undertone upon checking his missile counter, _zero fusion bombs and 7 missiles._ In the face of a fully armed squadron of Seraphs, he felt woefully naked.

His scanner beeped profusely just as the Seraphs were within 300 meters to contact. Jackson frowned and went in for a closer look. A cascade of blinking red dots buffeted his screen. His scanner protested with a series of beeps which grew ever more intense with the passing seconds. The scanner had picked up a wave of unknown fighters which were approaching them.

"Rick, you reading this?" he queried. Rick gave a grunt in reply, "Yeah…Those guys look familiar…reckon they're Covenant?"

Jackson sat in silent contemplation, considering his options. He could play it safe and fire on them…or he could wait for them to make their next move; and most likely get killed in the process.

"Screw it," muttered Jackson darkly, he had no intention of being caught off guard.

"Men, fire at the new arrivals once they're in range! Hold the line at all costs!" he boomed into his head-set. Jackson gripped his controls in a rigid clasp, sealing the joysticks beneath his clenched fists. He breathed deeply, calming his frayed nerves. If he made it out of this alive, Jackson swore to treat Rick nicely from now on.

**Cornerian Calendar 6032****nd**** Cycle May 26****th**** 2350, Orbit of Tiranus II**

"McCloud, we've got a problem," came the husky vice of Sergeant Dave over his head-set.

"Yeah, I see our problem," frowned Fox. The vulpine squinted at his scanner. There was a battle of some sort going on just ahead. A cacophony of alarms and jumbled voices spluttered through his head-set when he switched it to an open channel. Something was going on outside alright.

Even from where they were, his squad could make out the skirmish which raged on at the other side of the planet. Massive ships hovered over Tiranus's pallid surface, some obviously belonging to the Covenant…others Fox had never seen before. The unknown ships in many respects resembled their own fighters. They were angular in design and dark grey metallic hulls were draped over their surfaces.

Sporadic flashes of magenta washed over their tiny squadron. Fox could tell the battle was intense and instincts told him staying clear of it was hardly a bad idea.

"Stick to the game plan guys. We get into Tiranus, grab our package and get out. Over," countered Fox over his team's channel. His squad replied their affirmatives.

"McCloud, new problem. We've got company," retorted Sergeant Dave. Fox grimaced when he checked his scanner once more. The battle had shifted closer to them; a squad of fighters loitered ahead, and a secondary gaggle of Covenant fighters were hurtling straight for them. From what Fox's scanners revealed as well, the stationary fighters were badly mauled up. It was obvious who would be the victor of the dogfight which lay installed for them.

Fox considered his choices. He could ignore the fighters and focus on completing his mission…but still it wouldn't hurt to help them would it? With his squad combined, overwhelming the Covenant would not be a problem.

"Change of plan. We're helping those fighters out. Our enemy's enemy is our friend and we've got time anyway," ordered Fox. He flicked his Arwing's auto targeting system on and gathered his fighters for their charge against the Covenant.

* * *

'Sir…Those unknown ships are helping us!" gasped Rick, bewildered.

Jackson hastily spoke into his head-set, "Men, do not fire upon the new arrivals. I repeat, do _not _fire. Take out only the Seraphs!"

"Ready Sir?" asked Rick, manning the gun turret once more. Jackson nodded and blared into his head-set, "On my tail squad! Let's give it to em!"

His men hooted over the channel, spirits suddenly revived from their unexpected fortune.

Two of the Seraphs had already been downed from the hail of plasma bolts delivered by their unknown ally. With expert skill, the squad divided itself neatly into two just as the Seraphs released their payload. The two factions peppered the Seraphs from their flanks as they swooped alongside. When the strike was done, the two factions re-attached itself to form one main squad. Without pause, they commenced a relentless wave of attacks, tearing through the swath of Seraphs mercilessly.

The fighters were cunning, remaining out of reach of the Seraphs but ripping through the ranks of the Seraphs in one fell swoop before streaking away. One fighter in particular was more impressive than the rest. Jackson witnessed the lone fighter hover between two Seraphs, tempting them to attack. With sudden ferocity, the Seraphs went for the kill. The fighter zoomed away at the very last second, prompting the two Seraphs to plough into each other. A fiery end resulted.

Jackson's squad had little to do in the end. Picking off stragglers turned out to be their task but his men weren't complaining. When the skirmish appeared to have whittled down in their favor, Jackson decided to contact his mystery ally. But just as their fortunes took a twist for the better, the Covenant threw one last surprise at them.

A half wrecked Seraph fighter, upon seeing the battle was lost, ejected an unsuspecting small projectile from its bomb bay. Jackson caught notice of it however, and loaded his last missile to eliminate it. Before Jackson's hands had the opportunity to squeeze the triggers, a dazzling white light coruscated through his cockpit window, robbing his eyes of sight. Jackson swore and turned away. Confused shouts filled Jackson's head-set before being replaced by static. His scanner inexplicably went blank. Computer systems went offline. The lights in his fighter went out and the engine stopped running.

With his fighter frozen and immobile, Jackson noted to his horror the ashen white planet which lay below was slowly dragging him towards its surface. The arm of gravitational forces was at play here and Jackson was powerless to stop it.

"Sir, what do we do?" wailed Rick frantically.

Jackson strapped his seatbelts on and secured his helmet. "Welcome to your first crash landing," Jackson replied.

* * *

Through his crimson hued cockpit window, Fox could discern nothing of the outside world. Not that it made any difference; Fox didn't need a reminder of how fast he was going anyway. He gave his controls an exasperated thug but that produced no response from McCloud's Arwing. Every computer aboard his fighter refused to operate and to make matters worst, even his backup generator was rebelling. Of all things that Covenant fighter could have detonated, it had to be an EMP bomb.

The encroaching effects of G-force were beginning to take root as his Arwing continued its vertical plunge to hell. Fox felt his mind cloud over and every breath became labored. Spots of red dotted his vision. It was as if every organ in his body was on strike and had ceased working.

McCloud desperately punched the button to his backup generator one last time. To his utmost relief, the machine replied with a purr. Fox's scanner flickered back to life and the controls submitted to his rule. The vulpine donned an emergency gas mask which had at last begun emitting desperately needed oxygen.

Fox yanked the controls towards him, determined to lower the terrifying speeds his Arwing was cruising along. The fighter would not be defeated so easily however, and resisted with its frenzied spiraling for solid ground. A violent shudder ran through the drowning ship and the wail of a siren reverberated throughout the cockpit.

The Arwing finally began to rise up; its base slightly horizontal to the earth below but it was still bolting along way too fast for a safe landing. Fox knew it was too late for anything else and braced himself for impact.

A stentorian crunch resounded in Fox's ears just as his whole body was thrust forwards by inertia. The seatbelts held him back; the thin strap of fabric prevented him from being flung through the window like a rag doll. However, McCloud's head was slammed into the dashboard with the unceremonious landing his Arwing performed.

Fox McCloud felt a blaring flash of pain erupting from where his skull made contact. His vision became tarnished with flecks of sanguine spots and the cockpit suddenly turned hazy.

Fox barely noted the ferocious tremors which rippled through the cockpit. He barely noted the ship suddenly becoming still once more. He barely noted the shafts of sunlight poring over his face and the two massive shadows which towered over him.

Fox dimly noted a pair of brawny arms which grasped him by the torso, gingerly lifting him out of the cockpit into the sun drenched world above. Whether the arms of death or of his savior, he did not fathom. The last thoughts which echoed through his mind were of Krystal, and then all went dark.


	4. Extraction point

**A/N: Well, this is it. My last chapter. The story is nowhere near complete of course and (surprisingly) from what used to be a mini-project in which I wasn't sure of where to go, I ended up working out most of the plot. I'll be working on my novel as my next project but from time to time, I'll throw in short stories here and there. My short stories can be found at my deviant art website at: **.com/

**Do pay it a visit! **

**Still, if anyone comes begging for a continuation, I'll add in mini chapters after this chapter. I promise you a fun last chapter ahead. Enjoy! **

**Cornerian Calendar 6032****nd**** Cycle 27****th**** May, 8.35pm Cornerian Hours, Cornerian Capital**

"And what makes us think we can trust you?" retorted Wolf O'Donnell smugly. Stalwart arms lay crossed over each other as he surveyed his guest with suspicion.

Seated upon a chair in front of him was Krystal. A hood lay draped over her head, concealing the feathery tresses of her cobalt hair and veiling Krystal's sea-green eyes. Two pointed ear protruded from either side of her crown, leaving a jut in the hood. Her parka concealed a curvaceous frame. Krystal placed a pensive digit upon her chin before continuing.

"I have been…retrenched by Mister McCloud. I just need a stable income; no ulterior motives here O'Donnell," she replied. A slender finger traced the outlines of her cup as she observed Wolf's reaction.

Wolf snorted. "_Mister_ McCloud? Broke up with him eh? Well, for all we know, that could be a scam. Could be a trick devised by you guys to spy on Star Wolf. Give us proof you're not lying first, and then we talk."

Krystal sat poised on her seat in regal disdain. Star Wolf wasn't very welcoming, she could see that. She half considered turning tail and leaving right now but…no…she would persist on. Joining Star Wolf was the best way of showing _Mister McCloud _she didn't need men like him.

Still, she did wish the meeting location was somewhere more decent. Instead, she ended up seeing Star Wolf in a seedy bar at a place known affectionately by the denizens of Corneria as the wrong side of town. Neon signs lined the sullen streets, promising patrons alcohol and a 'good time'. Illegal gambling dens spilled onto the filthy roads which were cramped to the brim with shifty looking characters and ruffians alike.

Krystal sighed. "Alright then, have it your way."

She lowered her eyelids, secreting away her emerald orbs. For a second, nothing happened. Leon and Panther, who flanked Wolf, gazed at Krystal expectantly. Wolf frowned and lowered his maw.

Suddenly, the lupine's eyes widened in shock. He gasped, his body assuming a posture of rigidness. Wolf's partners gaped in surprise; they had never seen their leader loose his cool this way before.

Wolf began clutching the sides of the bar counter in a vice like grip. His veins protruded and his fist turned white. Even the sturdy counter itself began to tremble. The bartender stared at them with dubious eyes, not realizing the mug he was filling was overflowing.

Leon opened his mouth to protest but Wolf recovered before any words came out. He inhaled deeply and shook his head in wonderment.

"That was…enlightening…" rasped Wolf O'Donnell, his visage ashen white. Cold sweat dripped down from beneath his grey mane.

"Believe me now?" asked Krystal. For a few moments, Wolf said nothing. His companions scrutinized his every expression closely, waiting for a frown or smile which would divulge his answer.

However, the lupine became cocky once more as the effects of Krystal's projected mental image wore away. "How do I know that… mental image or whatever you call it was real?" snapped Wolf, "You could have been making those pictures up!"

Krystal sighed exasperatedly. "Look, I've done all I could to convince you. If you want to turn away a telepathist from joining your team, go ahead then. I'm sure telepathy is a common skill every Cornerian has," she retorted. She took a swig of her mug and slammed it hard upon the counter.

"Let that flower join us…she does have a point," Panther chirped in. He flashed Krystal a smile which she promptly ignored.

"I wasn't asking you," growled Wolf aggressively. Panther gave a nonchalant shrug and casually placed both arms behind his head, all the while eyeing Krystal with piqued interest.

"Alright…I trust you. You're in. But be warned…no funny business around here. We don't take kindly to traitors," fumed Wolf.

Panther grinned from ear to ear and added in, "A pleasure to have you in the team my gem."

Krystal rolled her eyes. She detested womanizers like Panther.

Wolf O'Donnell reluctantly raised a paw and offered it to Krystal.

"So, we have an agreement?" he asked, though mistrust still glimmered in his eyes. Krystal took the paw and shook it. "We have an agreement."

"Great. Well, Leon, Panther and I have some private matters to discuss first. We'll meet at the Pericles Space dock entrance in an hour's time. So…" Wolf never had a chance to complete his sentence. He stopped mid-sentence upon hearing the familiar breaking-news jingle pipe up on the bar's TV set. Every head in the bar whipped around, eyes glued onto the holographic screen.

The newscaster popped onto the screen, poker-faced.

"We interrupt this program for a news-breaking broadcast," he announced humorlessly, "Barely three hours ago the Cornerian Military has officially announced that the Lylat System may very well be on the verge of a new war ."

An audible series of gasps rang throughout the bar.

"Commander-in-Chief, General Pepper has confirmed at 0345 Universal Hours, May 27th that the Cornerian military; or more specifically the 3rd Space Recon Squadron, encountered a fleet of ships whose origins are unknown. The military has confirmed that conflict with these unknown forces have been ongoing for an unspecified amount of time. General Pepper here gives an update," with that, the screen switched to Pepper. Krystal sympathized with him upon seeing Pepper's face.

General Pepper seemed harassed and moody. And all that while, eager reporters jostled around him. A band of bodyguards did their best to form a ring around their superior as he made his way to an awaiting convoy of hover-jeeps.

"General Pepper, how will Corneria fare in this war? Our armed forces have already been depleted by the Aparoid invasion…" a hovering microphone extended itself to reach Pepper's mouth and cameras flashed excitedly around him.

"We still have several fleets left in reserve that were mostly untouched by the Aparoids. Also, at this time it is not known the full size of the… unidentified fleet. They may very well be a skirmish force…" Pepper replied dully.

Before he even had time to recover, another question barged its way in.

"General, shouldn't the military have attempted negotiation with the aliens before engaging in conflict?" another reporter hurriedly jutted in.

General Pepper frowned, as if insulted by the question. "This military is not impetuous in our actions," he retorted, "We _did _open diplomatic channels with the fleet but the…unidentified beings chose war instead and have refused all attempts to negotiate. The welfare of all Lylatians is in the mind of the administration so rest assured all actions taken by the military have been well thought of."

As Pepper finished, more queries barged its way through. More reporters jostled their way towards General Pepper, hollering their questions as they did. The screen panned back to the reporter, his sober-sided face looming over the patrons of the bar.

"Further reports have also confirmed that the military has already taken losses from the alien fleet and that the fleet in question is presently somewhere in the Lylat system outskirts. At this point, Aparoid and Venomian involvement is becoming more and more unlikely. This has been a Cornerian Prime News broadcast; we shall now resume the previous program." The breaking-news jingle played over once more and the newscaster's face disappeared.

"…Well, see you in an hour I think" said Wolf as he got up. Leon and Panther followed suit. The trio swiftly made their way for the door. As the door was closing behind them, Krystal could already hear Leon's raspy voice muttering anxiously and Wolf looking disturbed by the recent developments.

Krystal paid for the drink and hastily left the bar. Intuition told her action and danger was looming in the horizon; and she was going to be a part of it.

"Never a dull moment," she muttered to herself spiritlessly. Airy tendrils of azure blue danced over her face as a gentle breeze washed over Krystal. A pearlescent moon hung high in the sky, though barely discernible amongst the many skyscrapers that occupied the onyx-hued heavens. Krystal wandered down the cheerless streets, soon lost amongst the populace.

**Cornerian Calendar May 27****th**** 0345 Universal Hours, Tiranus II Extraction Point**

"It's been three bloody hours. Is extraction coming or what?" fumed Samson. He paced around the clearing listlessly, every now and then casting a cursory glance at the afternoon sky.

"Private, here's an order. _Shut up_," growled John Husky in reply.

Samson complied and fell mute. John gazed at his squad. Even his partners seem to be loosing their patience with the prolonged wait for evacuation. Bryans however, was silent. He sat a little away from the rest of the squad by the cliff, facing the direction of their fallen base.

John observed Tyrone Bryans concernedly. Loosing your best friend was hard and Husky had been through times like these. John Husky pondered his course of action; before finally settling on getting up and seating himself beside Bryans. Bryans barely registered Husky's presence. His glazed orbs seemed to be peering into distant worlds and memories John Husky could not see.

"He'll make it," John quietly told the lupine. Bryans looked up, once lively eyes now unseeing and dull. John felt a pang of pity for the wolf.

"Cooper's smart. Anyway, he was in the sick bay away from the fight. If anything happens, he'll figure a way out to escape." John confidently announced to Bryans.

Bryans laughed humorlessly. "Still, that's just speculation…those aliens might have surrounded the whole base…no one would escape then…"

John smiled. "That's also speculation Bryans. In times like these, sometimes… hoping is the best thing to do. The only thing you can do. I've been through it…I should know…"

Bryans goggled at Husky. "You mean…you and your girlfriend….I thought it was rumor," he mumbled, as if afraid to anger his captain. He averted his gaze to the frozen earth below and rubbed his palms.

Husky chuckled dully. "Not a rumor. Her name was…Aileen. I was about to marry her and all…anyway when she died, it was extremely hard on me too. I even considered suicide during those times…" John gulped at paused. It had been seven years since that day but dredging up the past was still tough for him.

"Anyway, I had a sort of…epiphany. I wondered how Aileen would feel if she saw me like this, falling to pieces and all. She died in a fire-fight by the way, and she died to save my life. She sacrificed herself so that I may live and killing myself would be such a disappointment and heartbreak to her…"

"And right about that time I pulled my self together…I told myself her love was all I needed. The fact that I had felt her love was enough and I'm grateful she came into my life, no matter how brief it was. It sounds corny saying this but…I feel that she gave up her life for a reason. And the reason was that so I may live and carry on doing my duty to protect others and preserve the peace….I'm going to keep on doing that. If Aileen's watching over me right now, she'll be proud of me…I know it."

As John finished, he was suddenly aware his squad had become deadly quiet and that his eyes were moist. He bent down in a pretense to tie his bootlaces, all the while hastily wiping away the tears that had gathered in the wells of his eyes; seeds of sadness.

"Thank you Sir, I think I understand now," Bryans replied. John Husky looked up. A shadow of a smile lingered upon his handsome face; just a shadow, but it was genuine. Bryans straightened himself with great purpose, fur bristling with renewed spirits. With that, his searching gaze was riveted once more onto the horizon, though his eyes were now alight with hope. Husky smiled and strode back to the clearing where his squad waited.

The rest of his squad had eyes pinned onto him, wide and curious. John sighed; he could tell that his men had been wondering about his past life for some time now. Husky suddenly wished that evacuation would come faster, anything to remove the awkward silence which occupied the forest clearing they were residing in. John had his wish; a dull whirl rumbled through the air.

"Is that them?" Carp questioned John hopefully, the lion's ears perked up in anticipation. John scanned the empty skies above when he noted with horror the whirling sounded too familiar…

"Men! Get down!" John hissed frantically as he buried himself into a dense patch of snow behind a boulder. His squad-mates hastily scoured for hiding spots and bunkered down.

The whirling grew in strength until finally; it resolved itself in the form of an alien flying machine. _It was the same flying machine which his squad encountered last night_. It ascended from beneath the cliff hovered above the clearing like a watchful wraith, an ominous blotch against the noon-lit sky.

John took a swift glance from behind the boulder and cursed in an undertone. A moving horde of figures were slowly treading their way through the forest. The majority of the figures were squat and stumpy. A pair of them however, towered above the rest. Even from this distance, John could tell they were monstrous in size.

As the horde lumbered into the clearing and the pale afternoon light fell upon them, John could tell these aliens were nothing he had seen before. Most of them were puny little creatures possessing lanky arms and stump-like legs which struggled against the foot high snow. Striding behind the gaggle of dwarf like creatures were two massive monsters clad in cobalt armor and wielding equally imposing guns.

The husky groaned when he realized the aliens were headed straight for his squad's enclave on the other side of the clearing…and there was no way they could escape undetected. John checked his ammo storage pouch and counted the number of plasma cells he had left.

"_Three…Maybe running would be a better idea…" _mused Husky as he fiddled with the three cells in his paws. He weighed his options hastily and decided against making a run for it…with the alien hover-craft around, sprinting in the open was suicidal.

With a finger, he gestured for Carp to read his paw signal. He protruded two digits pointing at the swarm of aliens and curled his fingers into a fist; the sign to attack.

Carp nodded grimly and began spreading the message. When the sullen news was delivered to the whole squad, John Husky took a deep breath and loaded his rifle. His heart was hammering against his stout chest.

"_Let's do this,"_

"GO!" Husky bawled, his index finger already clenching the trigger. A volley of plasma screamed its way towards the swarm. In an instant, several of the dwarf aliens crumpled to a heap upon the ground; their blackened blood staining the blanched snow.

The two larger aliens however, were a notch more agile than their lowly counterparts. With a leap, they ducked away from the line of fire and found refuge behind a rugged wall of trees. John was forced to retract his head when a huge bolt of virid green exploded near the base of his boulder.

John heard one of his men scream, though he couldn't be sure who it was exactly. Husky felt his heart fell nevertheless; he had a casualty on his team.

"Carp! Treat him!" bellowed Husky above the clamor of gunfire which rang in the clearing. Carp; who was the squad's medic, nodded and scurried from beneath the ridge of snow he was sheltering at.

John fastened his last rocket grenade onto the secondary nozzle of his gun and aimed it for the hover-craft. At the very least, he could rid the aliens of air-support…

The hover-craft was still busily raining plasma upon his men. Husky squinted through his laser sights; the hover-craft was dead center. Husky executed a sharp intake of breath and readied his fingers to squeeze the triggers.

He never got a chance to fire his weapon. A trail of smoke emerged from the corner of his eyes and zeroed it upon the vehicle. In an instant, a brilliant flash of magenta lit the clearing. The unfortunate hover-craft vacillated from one side to another, darkened clouds of smoke billowing from a gaping hole in its engine. With an abrupt jerk, it nosedived onto the alien forces bunkered down on the other side of the clearing. Grunts and squeals filled the air, before a blaring crunch overwhelmed them. As Husker took a sneak peek, he was heartened to see most of the aliens gone. A smoking crater occupied their former positions. Only a few dwarves and a lone large alien were left.

The lone monster released a guttural scream. The harsh cry echoed through the battle-ravaged clearing, a lamentation of the dead. Husker knew why; he saw its partner lying on the ground. An enormous chunk of shrapnel was buried in the beast's chest and no more blood ran from its still heart. The alien ceased its mourning when it spotted John crouching behind the boulder. It bellowed furiously, rage gripping the monster's colossal form. Ignoring the fact he was now outnumbered, the monster of an alien charged straight for Husky.

John lifted his rifle, knowing his little pop gun would do little to halt it. Just as the brute was within striking range of Husky, a volley of plasma was released from somewhere in the sky. A myriad of cerulean streaks tore through the monster's body, completely penetrating its energy shield and shredding its armor.

The beast shuddered to a precipitant stop. It wobbled unsteadily on its massive feet for a moment as dark lines of carmine fluid trickled down from its numerous wounds. The monster made a Herculean attempt to stride forwards but it amounted to a drunken stagger. Finally, it collapsed onto its two knees, desperately trying to stay upright. It swayed unsteadily on its knees. The effort proved too much and the creature tumbled onto the cold earth, crimson liquid staining the virgin snow.

Husky blinked, evidently in shock. He looked around him and with sudden realization, found out the fight was over; the minute dwarf aliens were all dead. Their abdominal bodies littered the ground. The snow was dirtied with the blood of the fallen and scorched chunks of body parts lay scattered around the crater. Husky's men were slowly rising from their hiding spots, their eyes fixed onto the sky.

Husky suddenly became aware of a low hum. He jerked his head up and to his horror, found another alien hover-craft; a perfect replica of the one which appeared earlier. The machine lowered itself onto the earth, melting the snow around it. With deliberate slowness, the machine made its descent and daintily landed upon the ground. Someone inside the vehicle cut the engine and the contraption fell silent. All seven pairs of eyes were now upon the hover-craft.

Husky had been contemplating of the creature behind the wheel but he never expected _this._

Cooper grinned widely, wings upon his hips. Behind him, a female retriever stepped out. Followed by a feline that tumbled out of the hover-craft while rubbing his buttocks and complaining about 'butt cramps'.

"Someone called for the pizza boy?' smiled Cooper. Husky's squad stared on, flabbergasted.

Cooper glanced at Husky's squad and suddenly gasped. "Will he be alright?"

John turned around. Lionel, a private in the squad was groaning in the snow; his abdomen was bandaged and emergency heal patches covered his arms. Carp, who had been attending to him, hastened back onto the job once more.

"I hope so. Wait…Cooper…How did you..." Husky began. Suddenly, he paused. A frown crept across his bloodied face and he pulled his rifle up with a flourish, barrel trained on Cooper and his two partners.

"Cooper! That's Cooper! It's alright it's just…" Bryans started, attempting to brush the gun aside. Husky growled and stayed his ground.

"What's your maiden name!" barked Husky. Cooper blinked and stared at his captain, as if unsure of his sanity.

"What the…Sir it's just me!" Cooper almost laughed. Husky didn't find it funny.

"Answer the bloody question! What is it?" the canine almost shouted, rifle still aimed for the avian's heart. Everyone fell silent, glancing nervously between Zack Cooper and John Husky.

"Zack Avarice Cooper," replied Zack, eyes fixated onto the snout of the rifle. Bryans heaved a sigh of relief and grinned at Cooper.

"Convinced Sir?" the lupine asked. He began to stride towards Cooper, arms in the motion of giving a high-five.

Husky held an arm out, stopping Bryans in his tracks.

"One more question only the _real _Private Zack Cooper could answer and which Cooper told me," growled John Husky, "How did your ex-girlfriend dump you?"

Cooper blinked, his beak agape. Everyone else however, appeared highly interested to know how Cooper's last girlfriend dumped him.

"Sir, you can't be serious!" retorted Cooper agitatedly, "Like hell I'm going to tell…"

Husky waved his rifle threateningly. "Sorry but I'm not taking any chances. Last thing we want is an imposter in the squad."

Cooper muttered darkly under his breath and began.

"…She…Well I was sleeping at her house and then she found out I had been with another…Anyway she chucked me outside while I was naked and I almost got arrested by a passing police patrol…" Cooper mumbled in a monotone, all the while venomously glaring around; daring anyone to laugh. For the better part, everyone kept a poker face.

Husky lowered his weapon.

"Sorry about that, "Husky said almost sheepishly, "You guys could have been under a disguise and planted by those aliens to spy on us."

"And I had to tell the whole world about that particular incident for the 'greater good' I guess," Cooper fumed, wings crossed. Husky mastered a sympathetic look.

Meanwhile, behind the avian's back, Monty was in a fit of quelled laughter. Sara glowered disapprovingly at the feline who was now snickering to himself.

"Anyway," Husky cut in, hastily changing the subject, "What's the story with you guys? As for Corporal Monty Candler, I recognize but who's the other girl? And how did you come across this flying machine?"

"Sara here is a medic, I found her…or rather she found me back at the hospital in the base," Cooper replied simply.

"The flying machine was stolen from an enemy convoy, "Sara continued, "We used it to fly our way here… but what I'm more curious about is why your squad is here? Is evacuation coming?"

"We were waiting for extraction but they've been hours overdue," Husky said sadly, "Anyway, we haven't got time; the enemy will most likely have received word about our escape and we should be on the move."

"I've got worse news," chirped in Monty, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, "While on the hovercraft we spotted a few ships crash landing in the distance- could that possibly be the rescue sent for us?"

John Husky was disconcerted by the ill news. The rescue ships were everyone's lifeline out of this hell-hole and the only hope of surviving the ordeal. Disquietude seeped into his mind and he felt uneasy; for the first time he was at a loss of what to do next.

"Alright… Did you see where the crash site was?" Husky spoke after some thought.

Monty pointed a finger somewhere south of them, where the cliff was. "I'm guessing they may have landed on the plains south of here. But if you're thinking of reaching them you better make it quick; we spotted a convoy of those aliens making their way there."

"Well, hopefully there might be some salvageable transmitter parts aboard those spaceships we might be able to use to call in for help," mused Husky, "Beats sitting around here doing nothing. We'll move out to the crash site but I think it's best if we left the hovercraft where it is since attracting attention is the last thing we want. And you can tell me what happened to you guys while we walk."

With that, the small group dispersed. Bryans and Cooper gave each other a brotherly bear hug and then both strode away; arms on shoulders, to pack their things. Carp gingerly wrapped the last strip of bandage around Lionel's wounded abdomen while Samson helped the medic keep away his equipment. Everyone seemed weary and their fur or feather were caked and crusted with blood but yet, none raised a word of complain. Escaping this wretched planet was their main priority now and even loudmouth Samson sealed his lips shut. As the last of their paltry stores of ammunition was stowed away safely in their haversacks, the squad briskly made their way for a narrow passage Sara had pointed out which would take them down the jagged cliffs and across the whitened plains.

Behind them was a mire of sodden snow, now blemished with blood and a morass of corpses. A crow fluttered down onto the body of a Brute, keen beaks tearing into his exposed flesh. The Brute's plasma rifle lay forgotten beside him, quietly turning into rust.

**Cornerian Calendar May 27****th**** 0545, Tiranus II, Covenant Internment Camp**

Fox McCloud peered apprehensively at his forlorn surroundings from the back of a hovercraft and wondered about his fate. The concussion he suffered from crash landing was dying away as his skull was hurting less now, though dull tremors of pain occasionally rumbled through his head whenever the hovercraft gave an ungainly jerk from crossing a pothole in the ground. Adding to the discomfort was the pair of handcuffs which shackled his arms behind his back. The vulpine sneaked a peek at the alien seated beside him. The massive creature was clad in cobalt armor and had remained mute for the whole journey as their transport made its way across the planet.

The interior of the vehicle was oppressive, with darkened violet walls (though they were hardly visible under the caliginous lighting) and a poor ventilation system. Fox noted with interest the hovercraft's roof had a gradual slope towards the rear, ending with the hull door. The only light in the transport was that of a garnet glow from a bulb overhead. Its crimson illumination gilded everything in the hovercraft with an eerie gleam of red. And complementing to the grim milieu was Fox's silent and watchful captor.

A jarring rumble rang through the hovercraft, breaking Fox from his reverie and he immediately sat upright; body tensed for whatever that came next. Fox soon felt the vehicle shudder to a stop and the muted 'whoosh' of doors being opened. Before long, the rear hull door slid upwards gracefully, blinding Fox McCloud as incandescent rays streamed into the hovercraft. Rough hands dragged him brusquely from his seat as Fox clenched his eyes shut from the flood of effulgent sunlight. Fox felt the snout of a rifle prod into his back as he unsteadily raised his eyelids.

Soft drifts of snow shrouded most of the winter landscape, their shapes graceful as the wind which forged them into existence. Pine trees and an adamant mountain wall lined the horizon. The scenery would have been picturesque had it not been for the burning encampment to the back.

A fuliginous air hung low over the band of war torn buildings, blotching out the details and hiding the encampment behind of veil of sooty black. Fox could discern minute figures patrolling the camp's outskirts and something which seemed like a tank parked at the entrance. A dirty plume of smoke rose from the camp's center.

The huge alien grunted and motioned for Fox to walk on. With two guards at his rear and front and another pair forging the way, the convoy made their way for the remnants of Military Installation 740.

As they neared the camp, Fox wrinkled his snout in disgust at the putrescent stench which pervaded the hazy air. With a jolt, Fox realized it was the odor of rotting flesh, something he was acquainted with fairly often in his job. With dread in his heart, McCloud strode stoically onwards. The group finally halted at the camp's entrance, which was merely a tear in the reinforced composite wall. Two squat creatures shuffled towards the guards and retrieved a tiny card from the hands of one of the guard. They bent over to examine it with a scanner of sorts in their clumsy hands.

While they were busy, Fox hurriedly took in his environment, scanning for anything noteworthy should he live to make an escape. His eyes fell upon a pair of bodies which had been dumped haphazardly at the edge of the wall.

They were the bodies of a wolf and a feline. Their arms were half clasped around each other, almost as if in embrace. Fox could have easily mistaken them from being asleep had it not been for the gaping bullet hole in their foreheads. Both their crowns were inclined towards each other and they seemed serenely peaceful, slumbering in their cradle of death. Fox could not help but wonder if they were lovers. But before he could pay any more thought to it, he was pushed through the entrance by a rear guard and into captivity.

As the guards and Fox McCloud traversed deeper into the base, rows after rows of wrecked buildings greeted them. The road however, was clear of debris as the majority of the rubble had been cleared to a side to make way for vehicles and soldiers. Fox felt his heart drop upon witnessing the military might of this alien army. In the skies above, squadrons of alien fighters whizzed by in formation, no doubt headed for the dogfight that raged on hundreds of meters above the planet's surface. Prim and smart columns of warriors clad in the same cobalt armor as his captor marched through the streets, their steel boots stamping on the ground in unison. The stomps reverberated throughout the dilapidated streets; an ominous sign of the change to come to the Lylat system. At the column's side was a long line of assault hovercrafts and tanks alike which sped past the marching soldiers, the barrels of their guns catching the late afternoon light.

Fox's captors suddenly led him off the main road and into a side alley and through a pair of double doors. Darkness settled over the group once more as they treaded through the threshold of the building. McCloud found himself in what looked like a warehouse; there were rows after rows of sealed airtight containers. A heap of storage tubes lay in a corner.

Another figure stepped out from the dusk though Fox could hardly discern its features in the gloom. A hushed conversation followed, before a new pair of guards took over his captivity. They were as tall as his original captors, though they appeared to be of much slimmer built. The dimness of the room however, concealed their façade. They led him down a stairwell which had been hidden out of sight by a large metallic crate.

Fox McCloud trudged down the steps, dreading the imprisonment which lay below. A gush of cold air billowed into his face and a slight shiver overtake his body. Fox tucked his paws into the warm burrows of his jacket's pockets and bristled his fur. At last, they came to the end of the stairwell. Fox was marched through a sliding door and into what seemed like a power plant. Covered drains lined the rusty walkway while exposed electrical cables ran along the entire stretch of wall to McCloud's left and right. Overhead were immense pipes that had been attached to the roof. At set intervals, fluorescent light bulbs lit the walkway.

The two guards finally halted outside a sturdy sliding door. They heaved it open and gestured for Fox to get in. the vulpine complied; knowing that without a weapon and against a more formidable foe, fighting them was useless. Fox stepped in and his captors heavily slammed the door shut. The stentorian crunch of metal against metal echoed hauntingly in his cell.

Fox squished one ear against the door and waited until he was sure the guards were gone. He speedily removed his left boot and tore away the sole of the footwear. A compact laser cutter tumbled out of a hollow compartment which had been skillfully carved into his boots. The cutter fell into his outstretched free paw and he grinned as he wielded it. The device was suited for slicing though even the thickest of metal, in one word; perfect.

Just as Fox began conjuring up his escape plan from what he had seen above, a low groan snapped him away from his train of thoughts. McCloud scrunched his eyebrows and whipped his head around, keen eyes darting back and forth across the murky room. A naked light bulb lit the entrance of the cell, casting a pallid glow of white around Fox but leaving the rest of the cell in semi-darkness. In the inner umbrage, a figure stirred. Fox froze and gripped his only weapon, the laser cutter, tightly.

The silhouette mumbled something indistinct and McCloud could descry the figure lift an arm into the space in front of it. But the figure was inexplicably overcome with a bout of weakness and the arm fell limply to the floor. The figure retreated into a prone position, still and unmoving.

Fox cautiously inched his way forwards, his tiny cutter suddenly the most precious thing in he world. McCloud reached the side of the dormant figure and peeled away a tattered and moldy blanket which had been draped over it. With one hand, Fox switched on the cutter to give him some light while the other hand was hooked under the figure's neck. As the lambent crimson glow suffused the figure's face, Fox released a gasp.

Resting upon Fox's paws was Airman First Class Rick, Co-Pilot of Lieutenant Jackson.

**UNSC Calendar May 27****th**** 0345 **

**Location: Surface of unidentified planet**

Colors… a multitude of colors all swirling around Jackson's periphery vision. Dotted here and there were spots of crimson. The sun was unnaturally bright. Everything was blurred and the colors were blotched. And from somewhere in the distance, gunshots.

Jackson groaned and made to sit up…but that made his head hurt even more. He attempted to raise an arm but every organ in his body was on protest and refused to cooperate. And all this while, the blurred cackle of gunshots perpetuated around him. _Where were they coming from?_

_Perhaps it was all a nightmare_, thought Jackson. _Everything was so…surreal._ Even reality seemed whimsical; the colors and sounds of the world were faded as if in a dream.

And then, reality compounded itself in the form of an arm clutching his face.

"Sir! You alright?" a crisp female voice punched through the air.

Jackson wearily lifted his eyelids once more. A red haired woman was staring intently at him, her cerulean eyes locked onto his hazel ones. As Jackson stared on, his mind began falling back into place.

"Where are we? Where did we crash land?" replied Jackson in a weak voice as he struggled to a sitting position. His head throbbed painfully but he ignored it. "Give me a status report!"

"Good to see you're back Sir. I'm Flight Lieutenant Casey Redwood. Flying Officer/Corpsman Jacob Smith and me crash landed about 3 clicks south-south east where we are now. You're the only survivor we encountered so far," replied the lieutenant simply.

Jackson suddenly became aware that another pair of hands was touching him and turned down to see a corpsman treating his abdominal wounds. His flight suit resembled a mangled and bloodied mess of titanimite and Kevlar.

"Anything broken officer?" queried Jackson. Jackson quietly prayed there were no broken bones or internal bleeding; those were hardest to heal.

"Mostly superficial wounds Sir," replied the Officer, "You'll be alright,"

As he spoke, he dabbed a limpid and runny liquid substance over his cuts. Jackson shuddered as the cold substance touched his skin… and then, the pain was gone.

"Alright, that should stop the bleeding and the pain for the next 10 hours Sir," said Officer Smith as he clambered out of the ruined cockpit. Lieutenant Casey offered Jackson her hand and Jackson grabbed it. Gently, she led her wounded superior from the marred remnants of his Broadsword fighter.

"So far I counted we have 3 downed birds. Sergeant Luke and his co-pilot are KIA Sir. They landed badly on that mountain…we did not see any activated escape pods."

The lieutenant pointed to the jagged mountains in the backdrop and Jackson could make out a trail of churning black smoke and a fiery blotch upon the rocks.

"Also…two of our new found friends crash landed. They went down about 6 clicks north of here."

The lieutenant raised her blackened hand once more and pointed at the forests ahead. Jackson squinted and discerned a secondary column of smoke from behind the conical tress. By 'new found friends', Jackson knew she meant the fighter ships who had aided them against the Covenant. Jackson wondered where they were now…

The final piece of his mind clicked into place, something was missing.

"Rick…Aww crap…Where's my co-pilot?" With a pang of panic, Squadron leader Jackson realized his co-pilot was missing.

"They captured him Sir. The covenant" replied Casey as she pointed to the snow capped coniferous forest to their left, "They tried to capture you too but we arrived and the grunts made a run for it with your Co-pilot…I'm sorry Sir"

Jackson lowered his jaw to reply but just then, his headset burst into life. A holographic screen blinked into existence inches from his eyes and the face of his Wing Commander appeared on the hovering screen.

"This is Command HQ come in…Jackson! Thank God you're alive. Report your status! Over!" the Commander barked.

As the squadron leader listened on, his diligent ears picked up sounds from the Command Ship. The dull sizzle of what seemed to plasma eroding metal could be discerned quite clearly.

"We've crash-landed Sir. Where exactly, we don't know; our ship's tracking systems are busted. So far, only Flight Lieutenant Casey Redwood and Flying Officer/Corpsman Jacob Smith; me included, are known to be alive. Sergeant Luke and his co-pilot are dead. The rest are MIA…over"

The Commander nodded, and then replied, "Copy that. Blackwell."

Jackson was confused for a second, and then remembered what this was all about.

"Rosewood. Over"

"Excellent. We just needed to confirm you're speaking on your own free will. We are currently unable to extract you lot, we've lost control of the space sectors above the crash site. You team is to head for a new designated extraction zone; we'll be sending you the coordinates and map of the area shortly.

The Pelican drop-ships will arrive there ETA four hours. You are to also attempt to locate any downed pilots nearby. Should that prove impossible, you are to merely head for the extraction zone. Remember, _don't get captured!_"

"About that Sir… my Airman First Class, Co-pilot Rick Winters was believed captured by Covenant Loyalist Forces. Permission to launch rescue mission Sir. Over."

A pregnant pause followed. The Wing Commander deliberated his choices; eyebrows furrowed together which creased his already wrinkled face.

"Permission granted. But remember, the LZ is hot. Don't expect the Pelicans to stay for more than half an hour. And keep in mind henceforth, your call sign is Beagle and our call sign is Doghouse. Doghouse Over and Out."

**Age of redemption (May 27****th****) Time: Unknown, Aboard the Covenant Flagship 'Transient Watcher'**

Andrew Oikonny threaded cautiously through the capacious expanse of the Covenant Assault Carrier, wary of the two Brutes who strode alongside his flanks.

As the trio marched along, Oikonny could not help but peer around the ship in a mixture of poorly concealed awe and fear. The walkway beneath their feet was that of burnt orange. Inscribed upon the walkway was a simple repetitive pattern that continued along its length. The walls and ceilings were sloped and curved…and as with all Covenant structures, they possessed varying hues of fuchsia or lilac.

The trio marched through a pair of sliding doors. As Oikonny gazed onwards, the walkway led to a short staircase that led to a command platform.

And on the platform was the last person he ever wanted to see again.

"H-Holy One! Greetings!" stammered Andrew Oikonny. Clumsily, the ape fell to one knee, head bent low in respect and fear.

The High Prophet nodded to the two Brutes who stood silently beside Oikonny.

The pair quietly murmured their variant of 'Holy One' in their native tongue before turning to leave in unison. As the sliding doors clicked shut behind them, Andrew Oikonny gulped audibly.

The Prophet fitted a translator around his elongated neck and spoke.

"I shall keep this briefing…brief Oikonny. The translator and this inferior language irritates my throat." The Prophet was pleased to see Oikonny nod fearfully.

"You have served the Covenant well Oikonny. The aid rendered approximately two years ago on Fortuna was helpful. You cooperation on Sauria has been noted as well."

Andrew felt his eyes widen. _Aid rendered?_ But he had failed to destroy Star Fox! In fact, this was precisely why he feared meeting the venerable Prophet once more, for he assumed the next meeting would mean punishment. Still, Oikonny had the sense to nod along gratefully. He did just that.

"You next mission is simple. You are to lure a certain Cerinian vixen by the name of 'Krystal of the Cardinal Sun' to Sauria. Raid a military observation post there or assassinate the locals on the planet…whatever you do, stir up enough trouble to bring Krystal to Sauria. Then again, your uncle and you should be well acquainted with that planet.

Oikonny winced at the reference of his uncle Andross. It was on Sauria that he failed to revive his uncle. With a pang of anger, he realized that the Covenant had failed to uplift _their _end of the bargain. They had promised him they would use the temple artifacts (For reasons unknown the Covenant kept referring to it as 'Forerunner' artifacts) revive his uncle as long as they lured Krystal to Sauria and allowed the Covenant to study her.

Still, it was mostly his fault the revival failed. He had failed to prevent Fox McCloud from entering the temple. But the Covenant refused to help him and chose instead to flee.

"I know what you are thinking Oikonny; we did not help you on Sauria," the Prophet continued in his voice that was devoid of emotion, "But remember; Andross failed us almost 12 years ago. He was to subdue the Lylat system with the equipment we generously provided him. Yet, he failed. As his only relative, it is fitting you repay the debt."

Andrew Oikonny wanted to protest but thought better of it. He bent his head in what he hoped was remorsefulness.

"But the Covenant forgives. Allow us to capture Krystal on Sauria and we will reward you with funding and equipment for a new army…I hear you still have a loyal following on Venom."

Andrew blinked rapidly. He had not expected a reward for this task.

"Thank you Holy One! Rest assured I will see this through. My loyalty is infallible Holy One!" spluttered Andrew Oikonny in relief as he bowed down once more.

"You loyalty? That remains to be seen Oikonny… Keep in mind we have inserted a nanno-chip into your brain. Any hint you intend to defect and the chip will be activated, releasing an electron charge than will permanently induce pain all over your body. And we _will _be watching you Oikonny."

The ape shuddered involuntarily. "Nanno-chip? But…When did you insert such a chip Holy One?"

"Out of mere curiosity of course…Holy One" the ape hastily added in.

"While you were last on Sauria," the Prophet replied icily, "You were sleeping…in a drug induced sleep that is."

Andrew Oikonny nodded and said nothing. That statement served to only feed his growing fear of the Covenant and most of all; the Prophet.

"So, we could have killed you anytime we desired to. Remember Oikonny, do not tell anyone of us. Do we have an understanding?" The Prophet glared at the ape menacingly.

"Of course Holy One. I will carry out the mission as you intended. Rest assured I will not fail!" Oikonny replied anxiously.

"I hope not. Dismissed." The Prophet removed his translator and messaged his neck. Right on cue, the two Brutes reentered the room and escorted Andrew Oikonny away.

Five minutes passed. The retreating footsteps of the trio soon faded out of existence. A holographic screen hovered in mid air in front of the Prophet's face. Upon it was the security feed of Oikonny walking to the hangar where he would be taken in a drop-ship and dumped at his previous location. The Prophet eyed Oikonny with disdain.

It had been 15 years since he studied the philistine collection of creatures who affectionately branded themselves '_Lylatians'. _Yet, the only term he saw fit for them was 'barbarian'. Everything about them irked the Prophet, from their miniscule empire to their democratic ideals. Such things were signs of weakness…and weakness was not tolerated within the ranks of the Covenant… At least not while _he _was in charge.

The doors slid open once more and the Prophet turned to see a Brute stride into the room.

For a change, this Brute was unarmored, revealing a hairy, ape-like façade and thick, gray hide. He was Macaerbus, ruling chieftain of the Brutes and honorary member of the prophet's advisory council.

"Holy One." The Brute acknowledged the Prophet in the Covenant's native tongue.

"Greetings Macaerbus. What brings you here?" the prophet replied.

"I have some… concerns about your hiring of a local barbarian," admitted Macaerbus, "Holy One, you could send my brethren in to capture this 'Krystal' you speak of. We are at your disposal."

The High Prophet smiled inwardly. This was precisely why he enjoyed using the Brutes. They were a stable political entity…blindly devoted to the Covenant…devoted to a dying cause. Macaerbus had also proven his mettle in combat and was intelligent and most importantly, _loyal._

"I will answer that question Macaerbus. Because I have studied everyone noteworthy in this system and Oikonny is someone whom this 'Krystal' has a strong dislike for. Oikonny was the last enemy Krystal had failed to kill or capture and should Oikonny stir up enough attention, she is sure to come hunting for him."

The Prophet paused and inched his throne closer to Macaerbus.

"And think Macaerbus… Oikonny had dealt Krystal hurt in the past while on Sauria. It was he who had held her captive at that very same planet and inflicted pain upon her. I would imagine Krystal would not resist the temptation to go to Sauria once more… to even the scales."

"Besides, though I do not doubt the honesty of the Jiralhanae…you must admit that should the barbarians come across your brethren, how would they deal with what they deem as a powerful and alien threat? With the full might of the military of course! What we will get in the end is a lot of unnecessary attention and the risk of scaring away our target."

The Prophet observed the Brute when he finished. Macaerbus seemed apt in attention.

"I understand now Holy One. Thank you," Macaerbus suddenly shifted uneasily on his massive feet and persisted, "But what importance is of Krystal to you Holy One?"

The Prophet had a feeling this conversation was staged to eventually lull him to answering that very question…a question that had plagued the minds of his advisory council.

"I am afraid I cannot answer that question Macaerbus," the Prophet replied, "However, what I _will_ say is that Krystal of the Cardinal Sun is of paramount importance if we are to redeem ourselves again as masters, not servants. I promise you Macaerbus, this _will _be the Age of Redemption."

**Cornerian Calendar 6032****nd**** Cycle May 27****th**** 0617 Hours**

**Tiranus II, Outskirts of Installation 740**

It was another busy day at the army installation. Tanks rolling through the dusty streets… troops chatting at the roadside… and a cargo ship landing upon the runway with a fresh batch of equipment and troops. Only problem was, they were Covenant forces.

Husky lowered his binoculars, making a mental note of the number of troops stationed at the various entrances. But despite his excellent and informative observation post, he could not descry the interiors of the base and where they kept the prisoners.

John Husky adjusted his seating position slightly, afraid to break a branch. His observation post after all, was a tree. He wouldn't have complained much but getting bristled and scratched by the sharp tree branches for half an hour was by far unpleasant.

Husky and his squad had arrived at the crash site just in time to see a pair of Brutes extricate the pilot from his cockpit. They would have gladly intervened if not for the platoon of Covenant soldiers standing guard in a circle around the downed Arwing and an anti-infantry vehicle.

And upon closer observation, the pilot was none other than the famed Fox McCloud, leader of the equally famed Star Fox. They couldn't leave him of course…and so it was agreed that they would split up. Husky, together with Cooper, Tyrone, Sara and most of his squad would secretly follow the captors of McCloud and attempt to rescue him should the opportunity arise.

Meanwhile, the wounded Lionel, Wayne and most importantly, Samson the technical expert, stayed behind at the ruined ship to recover or repair any salvageable transmitter parts. Wayne would be a lookout while Samson did his job.

Inwardly, Husky was happy of the arrangement. Samson had always been whiny and it was almost a relief to have him out of the way. He had wanted Sara to stay behind with Samson too but she refused…accusing him on grounds of _anti-feminism_ and _devaluing women_. He had then proceeded to argue that Lionel was injured and would need the attention of a medic to which she promptly rebutted _why couldn't he use Carp_?

And as Lionel's condition wasn't particularly fatal (Lionel even protested against having Sara around…the thought of dragging the team down horrified him), he had no choice but to admit Sara into the team. It also didn't help that Cooper was agreeable with everything Sara suggested... almost looked like as if that bird had a stupid crush on her.

Then again, he had a reasonable excuse to suspect that. Cooper had seemed more than delighted to take up observation duties with Sara.

Husky raised his glasses and quietly spied upon the base's ongoing for a few more minutes before clambering down from the tree. The captain wondered if the two medics had anything for ass cramps…

"Any activity on your side?" Cooper asked, his binoculars pressed against his eyes.

"Nope. All quiet in my sector…we may have a possible entry route here," replied Sara. She was right. The hole in the wall (coincidentally, the very same hole they had stumbled across earlier) had been carelessly left unguarded. Only two dwarves could be spotted loitering around the ruined wall. Even then, they seemed relaxed…perfect targets for sneaking up upon.

Sara checked her watch. "Sundown will be coming in about an hour's time. We'll observe for 10 more minutes and then head back as planned. If we're to sneak in, we should do so under the cover of night."

"Roger that," replied Cooper.

A few moments passed in restful silence as the duo continued observing an evidently quiet sector. And then Cooper cleared his threat audibly and began…

"So…I don't know much about you. Feel like doing some ice breaking?" Cooper asked almost meekly as he gave Sara a brief sideward glance.

"I'm Sara Wells, Combat Medic of the 38th Snow support company?" Sara replied quizzically, "That's the answer you looking for?"

"Er…I mean as in where did you study at before this? How come someone like you could end up on a planet like this?" Cooper continued. Suddenly, he noted that Sara was giving him a very odd look.

"You know, those are personal questions that I've never _even_ answered in front on my colleagues," Sara replied with a slight smirk.

Zack Cooper was aghast at the twist the conversation had taken and immediately stuttered. "O-Of course, you don't have to answer that! I mean, it's personal… I was just curious about you and…" Cooper trailed away and hoped that the encroaching darkness of twilight would conceal the blush on his cheeks.

"I studied as a nurse in the beginning on Elenard, at one of the many medical schools there. But being a nurse wasn't enough for me so I signed up at the combat academy and trained to be a combat medic."

Sara took a pause and glanced at the setting sun. The fleecy clouds that lined the skies of Tiranus were gilded with the light of the dying sun. With a little imagination, they resembled a wildfire that had been frozen in time.

"I served on Cerinia and… many other places in the Venomian and Aparoid wars… It was tough work. After the war I requested transfer here…to this middle of nowhere for some peace and quiet. I couldn't bring myself to quit this job so…here I am." Sara stopped, her grip on the binoculars tightened involuntarily.

"And your parents…they didn't say anything?" Cooper asked quietly. He felt sorry for Sara already, having gone through the horrors of war.

"I was an orphan. Turns out my mother had _dumped _me at the orphanage right after I was born. As for my Dad, I have no idea what happened to him. Only thing I inherited from them both is the family name '_Wells'_… Then again it was convenient to never have someone care for you. Makes it so much easier to do whatever the _hell you want._"

Cooper was startled to see a teardrop trickle down from the corner of her left eye. The single bead of tear caught the light of the setting sun and sparkled beautifully. Sara hastily looked away and wiped her watering eyes with a paw.

"I'm sorry… My family wasn't all that great too. Mum and Dad always quarrelling…divorce…the over-expectant father…see my mum only once a month…the usual story, "replied Cooper. He wanted to place a wing on Sara's shoulder but thought better of it.

"Must have been hard on you," Sara said. Zack was surprised to note that her voice barely cracked.

Cooper shrugged nonchalantly. "Did my best to move on. That's the only thing we can do I guess, stop dwelling on the past and move along."

"Yeah… "said Sara. She turned to look at Cooper, her eyes twinkling and a slight grin tugging at her lips. Her gilded locks framed a happier face and a smile Cooper thought was so radiant.

Sara shifted fleetingly and tentatively touched Cooper's wing. "Thanks Zack. I've always wanted to get that piece of history off my chest…I'm grateful of a listening ear."

Cooper grinned back. "No problem. Well, we've got exactly 3 minutes left. Wanna watch the sun set?"

"A 3 minute sun set…wonderful." Sara chuckled.

Side by side, the two soldiers sat on the tree. An auroral glow settled upon the seemingly untroubled earth, embracing the lonely duo. The ambiance of peace was unmistakable…but it was a façade of the turmoil to come.

However, nothing could ruin the sun set now; not even a universe at war. And as the sun dipped below the ragged horizon, Sara and Zack each placed an arm and wing around the other's shoulder…two kindred sprits huddled together. Then dusk came and the two were whisked away under the cover of the Cimmerian shade, lost to the night.

**Cornerian Calendar May 27****th**** 0715 Hours**

**Military Installation 740, Underground Maintenance Chambers**

Fox McCloud rubbed his paws vigorously. The planet was bitterly cold, especially when nightfall came. Worsening the situation was the fact that he had been stripped of his flight jacket. Still, it could have been worse. At least he had fur, unlike his unfortunate alien counterpart.

With that, he checked the temperature of Rick. His hands were still frigid cold despite the protective cover of the moldy blanket and McCloud's jacket. His forehead and arm had been hastily bandaged, though that did little to heal his evidently broken arm.

Fox McCloud had seriously considered leaving the alien behind and making run for it. However, his conscience would not allow it…Besides, he would not last long on the planet's harsh surface without sufficient winter wear and he didn't even have a clue where he was. For all he knew, his squadron had abandoned him for dead.

Fox shivered in the darkness and watched his breath come out as a puff of mist. He tucked his paws beneath his pants; the only piece of clothing he had on him now. His shirt had served as a bandage to stop a bleeding wound on Rick's abdomen.

Fox McCloud turned to look at Rick. The creature was odd from his perspective; a hairless ape save for his scalp. The creature was also lankier than the apes he knew, though he did possess lean muscles. Apart from these obvious differences, this creature resembled Fox McCloud in height and stature.

"_Still, he's better looking than the other aliens around here," _thought McCloud. The reptilian and stumpy aliens he encountered earlier looked far more menacing and monstrous. He shuddered from the unpleasant memories.

As he shifted himself closer to the alien, a distinctive noise broke the silence.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Fox perked his ears up, face apt with attention. _What was that?_

More thuds echoed from beyond the steel door of his cell. Fox McCloud hurriedly hid the laser cutter inside his curled fist. Should his captors tie him up later, at least he would have an option of escape.

_The thuds were definitely footsteps_ noted the vulpine. But yet, these footsteps weren't as heavy as those made by the bulkier aliens who had captured him. _Perhaps these were the footsteps of the dwarves_, thought McCloud.

Hushed whispers drifted from somewhere in the distance, and then more hurried thuds followed.

Fox was startled when a jarring knock erupted from somewhere to the left, and a call of "Any prisoners here? Fox McCloud?"

McCloud froze. He did not know what to make of this.

Another knock came; louder than before. It was closely followed by a shout of "McCloud? Anyone here?"

_Maybe it really is my lucky day after all, _wondered Fox.

"Hello? You guys friendlies?" McCloud timidly inquired, laser cutter still in his paw.

"We found him!" an excited voice chorused, before a series of "Shhhhh!" silenced the excited squeal.

"Hold on! We'll get you out of there! Cooper, get the lock! Oh and stand back Mister McCloud, the bullet may penetrate the door," a rough voice ordered him.

"Okay, I'm good," Fox replied, once he had dragged the unconscious Rick to safety. A moment later, a subdued 'ping' rang across the cell (most likely made by a silenced rifle) and the door slid open.

The vulpine found himself staring at an odd menagerie of his own kind. An Alaskan husky; whose uniform announced him as a captain, appeared to be in charge. A bird with a rusty brown plumage had a silenced rifle in his wings. A panther by his side together with a golden retriever who was standing guard on their left flank.

"Thanks, thought rescue would never show up," said Fox as he hoisted the prone body of Rick onto his back, "We've got another prisoner by the way, this fellow on my back,"

"The hell's that? A hairless chimp?" remarked Monty scathingly.

"Good question. But all we need to know is the aliens round here don't seem to take to him kindly, which means he's one of us," as Fox finished, Rick released a barely audible groan, "Should we get going captain?"

The captain seemed reluctant on taking a prisoner who was a burden but if he had different thoughts, he did not share them.

"Let's go team!" barked the husky, "Matter of time before they find the dead guards!"

The group raced up the narrow stairwell in a single file where they found a lion standing guard at the stairwell's entrance.

"We hid the bodies of those big scary guys sir! " Carp exclaimed, and pointed to the corner where two prone bodies lay quietly.

The captain nodded, "Excellent work Carp. Our prisoners are secured…now let's get the hell out of here!"

As they scrambled through the doors, Fox encountered more of the captain's men, many who had been watching the corners of the building and doorways. Fleck of snow descended from the star speckled sky, quickly shrouding the body of several dwarves and blood from view. All was quiet, save for the distant rumble of tanks and the ominous whirl of hovercrafts.

The team stealthily darted in and out of the ruins of wrecked buildings, avoiding main roads and using alleyways when necessary. The lack of lighting aided them vastly in avoiding detection by patrolling sentries. Surprisingly, the journey was by far uneventful. Fox was immensely grateful for that; he had more than enough excitement for a day.

At last, the husky led them through a gaping hole in the installation's otherwise sound walls. The corpses of two dwarves lay sullenly beside the hole, their abdomen peppered with the holes of silenced bullets. Fox scurried through the tear in the wall and found himself near the edge of a dense swath of forest. Two soldiers and the captain were standing vigilantly on guard, eyes wary for any enemy movement.

"All clear. Let's move," the husky ordered in an urgent whisper. Two other soldiers fell back to the rear of the squad, while the one identified as Carp and the panther protected the flanks.

Fox McCloud spared the base one last glance, before hurrying with his team through the darkened tree lines and out of sight.

"Did any of you happen to see any more crash landing fighters? I did not come here alone," Fox said, after the first tense fifteen minutes came to pass and the team were now properly hidden in the forest.

"Yeah, we did," replied the panther, who went on to identify himself as Monty, "One was yours, the other a modified Wolfen fighter…I think the ones the Cerinian army uses. Unfortunately, that Wolfen pilot crashed into the mountains…didn't see any escape pods too…Sorry mate,"

Fox cursed in an undertone. His squadron had sustained its first casualty and it was _his_ entirefault. _Had they proceeded to merely extract those trapped here, perhaps there wouldn't have been…_

No, he couldn't think about that now. Right now, he would focus on getting his furry ass off this planet…and try not to get anyone else killed.

"And there were four more fighters of…unknown origins," Monty continued, "Didn't look like anything our army has. I was hoping you could explain that actually."

With that, Monty passed Fox a curious glance.

McCloud suddenly remembered. "They were fighting the aliens in a space dogfight… in fact; I think our friend here was possibly one of them,"

He gestured at Rick, who was on Carp's back.

"What are they?" Husky quietly asked. He received the reply not long after.

A harsh cry burst from somewhere within the trees. And then, what was unmistakably the barrel of a gun punched through the snow covered shrubs and aimed itself at the captain's neck.

The whole squad rapidly aimed their rifles at the shrub and the surrounding trees.

The voice continued speaking, though in a language Fox had never heard of. Finally, the voice materialized itself in the form of a humanoid figure…a figure very much like the unconscious figure on Carp's back.

The figure was dressed in what looked like a torn flight suit. He had a handgun pointed at Husky's neck and with the other hand, gestured at the branches above the squad.

"_Damn!"_ cursed Fox as he discerned the barrels of rifles from the trees above. There was no telling how many of those things were up there…one false move could prove fatal for the entire squad.

The figure had a skin the color of chocolate brown and fierce hazel eyes. He was also hairless, just like the alien Carp carried.

The humanoid proceeded to point at Rick and pressed the gun into the hollow of the captain's neck. It was evident the humanoid wanted his friend back. Fox saw the need to intervene.

McCloud strode forwards; albeit slowly, towards the humanoid. The alien did not seem to like that very much and began shouting angrily, eyes alight with fear.

"I mean no harm; look" Fox spoke, his arms in the air and palms facing outwards, "See? I'm a friendly… No guns, no knives,"

The humanoid breathed deeply and glared suspiciously at Fox.

"I was part of the alien fighters …" with that, the vulpine mimicked the shape of his Arwing with his paws, "…in space…" Fox pointed to the night sky, "…we helped you…" McCloud pointed to the humanoid, then himself.

The dark skinned alien appeared convinced. Grudgingly, he barked an order and the gun barrels in the trees retracted themselves.

The alien lowered his gun reluctantly and held his hand out.

"…A pawshake? They know that?" wondered McCloud aloud.

With the eyes of the squad boring into Fox McCloud and the whispers of their murmured prayers, Fox nervously walked towards the humanoid.

Fox lifted his arm and; with paw shaking, lightly gripped the hand of the alien. They both shook it, gently at first, before the handshake became a genuine and relaxed one. The humanoid grinned.

The alien said something but Fox reckoned he knew what it was.

"Friends," he smiled.

**UNSC Calendar 27****th**** May 0800 Hours (1 and a half clicks to extraction zone) **

All in all, it had been a crazy day. The last thing Jackson had expected was help; but help came, albeit in a form he didn't expect.

_Familiar_. That was the first word to come to Jackson's mind when he encountered those aliens…not a word frequented when around E.T.

But yet, those creatures resembled Earth like animals in every aspect. Jackson had seen a retriever, Alaskan Husky, panther, lion, fox, wolf, raccoon and what _looked _like a very big bird. Only thing was they all possessed opposable thumbs and were bi-pedals. Jackson secretly wondered if he was in some cartoon… except that the woodland critters had taken to guns.

Casey and Smith seemed equally enthralled by their new found friends. Casey for one could not help but steal them a sideward glance once every thirty seconds.

"Sir, what do you think _are_ they?" whispered Smith as their newly supplemented team trudged through the thickening snow, "I'm still having difficulty digesting the fact that aliens look like animals… _a lot _like animals."

Jackson sighed. "I couldn't care less how weird this may look. All I care is getting extracted in time…and we've only got 15 more minutes and my radio isn't transmitting…maybe it's the static charge in the air…"

Jackson turned around and pointed vigorously at his watch.

"Let's walk faster…" he protruded two fingers and made them to be a pair of walking legs, "…Only fifteen more minutes to extraction…" he held out five fingers and a curled fist.

The animal-aliens nodded grimly and picked up the pace. As Jackson turned around, he could hear them conversing tersely amongst themselves. Jackson hoisted Rick further up his back; hoping his fever would subside soon. Hopefully the co-pilot could receive some medical attention on the Pelican…

Jackson double checked the holographic map screened on his headset. They weren't far off now…


	5. 2nd contact

**(A/N: I'll try to churn chapter 6 out as fast as I can go. Time's been rather tight for me and it's been hard to find some writing time...but I'll manage. For now, enjoy the next instalment, and as promised, MC takes the front stage******** )**

**UNSC Military Calendar 2553, Date Unknown, Location Unknown**

Master Chief; not for the first time in his life, found himself surrounded by more enemies than he could ever manage and severely lacking in firepower. _Not that grousing to myself would do much good_; Chief reflected bitterly as he clutched his M6G Magnum tightly.

The Spartan warrior had flattened himself into the overgrown weeds that grew freely around the downed spaceship. Further aiding to his concealment was a mossy boulder that hid him well. And it was a damn good thing he was hidden well...for under the lurid light of the ebbing moon, 5 Flood forms were shuffling about barely a hundred feet away from him, their low groans revealing their presence.

Chief... or rather, Cortana has spotted them two hours ago. He had been busily scouring the wrecked ship for anything useful when Cortana sounded the alarm. She had seen the 5 of them, with the sun behind their backs, lumbering across the grassy plains and headed straight for them. Had Chief been merely using the naked eyesight, spotting them from such a vast distance away and with the sun to their backs would have proven impossible. But thankfully, Cortana had accessed the ship's ranging systems (Chief was stunned that they had survived the crash-landing) which promptly pin-pointed anything that moved for miles around.

Another thing that Cortana had observed too was that these Flood forms appeared to lack a Gravemind. For such small groups to appear, it meant they the Flood; for now, was being co-ordinated on a local level. Master Chief shuddered to think if he had to combat an organised Flood all over again...as if the last time wasn't bad enough.

One of them staggered close to the gaping hole in the ship where Chief had exited from. As it did, Chief edged his head around the boulder, sneaking a peek at the creature. This one seemed to be a Combat form...what the original host was though...Chief had no idea. A canine jaw of some sort protruded from underneath a glob of greenish biomass and tentacles. Patches of fur shrouded the creature, though most of it had fallen away revealing decaying flesh beneath. And oddly enough, what appeared to be a tail emerged from the end of the spine...though the tail had largely been reduced to skin and bones. Thankfully though, the beast was unarmed. Chief ducked down as the Flood form spun itself around.

The Spartan warrior examined his weapon. With a miniscule magazine size of only 8 rounds, Chief would have to make every single shot count; there would be no time to reload in mid-battle. But the small ammunition load-out was countered by the fact that the sidearm utilised the M255-SAPHE round. In short, each bullet was literally a mini explosive; burrowing deep into the enemy before detonating. The M6G was a lethal weapon, perfect against anything from armoured targets to flesh. Unfortunately, the weapon did have a major flaw; it's low rate of fire.

"Right, show time," murmured Chief to himself. He flicked the safeties on the pistol off.

Master Chief squeezed the electronic spoon of his fragmentation grenade and cooked it for a few seconds. With 2 seconds left to the timer, Chief chucked the grenade. The blast took out the unfortunate Combat form which was unlucky enough to have the grenade land right between its legs. The shrapnel that tore through the air ripped out arms, tentacles and a good deal of flesh from 2 others and left the rest with slight burns.

Chief wasted no time in firing his first shot at the Combat form standing closest to the ship. The bullet penetrated the creature's head and sprayed its comrades in a mist of greenish goo and brains. Chief spun on his heels and fired 2 shots in succession that took out yet another Flood form.

The final 2 groaned and stumbled towards Chief with surprising agility. Chief squeezed the trigger and downed one of them. The beast tumbled down, fresh bullet marks peppering its torso and head.

The last form was now barely a couple feet away, just within range of its tentacles. Chief was disturbed to note that it wielded a golden staff as a weapon...though he prayed it was just a stick and nothing more. As the Spartan adjusted his aim and prepared to fire, it happened. His world erupted into a paroxysm of intense pain...pain has he had never felt before.

Chief uttered a cry of surprise and collapsed into the dense grass. His pistol slipped from his grasp and tumbled somewhere within the tangled weeds. The sudden spasm of pain didn't end there. Suddenly, he couldn't feel his arms or hands anymore...and the stars that dotted the night sky above seemed to have been swallowed up by the encroaching darkness. "Chief!" Cortana's voice echoed within his helmet. But that voice felt distant and soft...as if carried over some great distance.

Master Chief struggled to throw off an abrupt bout of drowsiness that had settled over him. The Flood form was now just 5 feet from him, its ugly head hanging awkwardly from a side. The beast raised its staff and aimed the bulbous head of the weapon towards Chief. Without warning, a glaring flash of light filled Chief's vision and blinded him. And then a harsh shout, and then a series of groans...and then ...darkness.

**UNSC Calendar 2553 May 27****th**** 1530 Universal Hours, UNSC Carrier 'Fist of Oceania'**

Vice Admiral Randall had never seen a stranger day...and he had seen some pretty strange days in his lifetime if he could say so himself. What he was seeing here however...probably would have put the other days to shame.

Seated on a chair just beyond the 2 way mirror was a creature so bizarre...he still hadn't made up his mind if it was only a hoax of some sort.

The alien (who oddly; resembled a wolf, albeit a more anthropomorphic one) seemed twitchy and nervous, throwing an anxious glance at the mirror ever so often as if he knew he was being watched. And he was right. Accompanying Vice Admiral Randall was his translator, several officers and an entourage of marines. Should the meeting go ugly...well, firepower could take over where diplomacy had failed.

A UNSC Brigadier General with a marine escort marched up to him and flashed a crisp salute.

"Sir, you sure about going in yourself? You could always just use your translator or a couple of my men. Mister Wolf in there could very well be a clever Covenant trap...can't trust those bastards much."

"Thank you for your concern General Jones," replied the admiral simply, "But I'm fairly certain of my safety."

The Brigadier General tipped his cap. "As you say Sir." General Jones spun around on his heels.

"Sergeant! Open the door!" the General barked. The marine escort who had been trailing behind him nodded and pressed his palm against a touch-screen. The screen lit up and the metallic door slid open.

With military precision, 3 marines marched into the holding room first, followed by Randall and the Brigadier General. The door slid back and closed with an ominous 'click' behind them.

The atmosphere was oppressive. The room had been stripped to its barest minimum, with only 2 chairs and a table; all sealed to the floor. The lights lit the holding cell with a garish wash of pale white, illuminating every object in bright detail. And somewhere in a hidden corner...a camera probably recorded the ongoing in the room.

Vice Admiral Randall seated himself on the chair at the opposite end of the table facing the wolf-like alien.

The wolf flicked back a stand of greyish mane from his hazel eyes when Randall sat himself down and fiddled nervously with his claws. To Randall's amazement, he noted opposable thumbs on the creature's paws. He had missed that fine detail earlier when examining the alien on screen.

"Hello," said Randall simply, doing his best to appear pleasant and amicable. The Vice Admiral smiled widely, feeling like an idiot. The wolf stared back quizzically.

An awkward silence filled the room.

The translator hurriedly uttered two phrases in what sounded like a deep bark, "_Aä Grräs?" _Randall prayed the de-coders who worked in the carrier's communication sectors had successfully worked out from the alien's transmissions what "hello" meant in their language. For all he knew, the translator could have very well just insulted the alien unknowingly.

The wolf blinked a few times, a funny expression forming on his face. With a low bark, he said something in what sounded like a questioning and slightly bemused voice.

Now it was the translator's turn to blink. "Er...hold on..." he said and consulted a handheld personal computer.

A moment later, he looked up. "I think he was asking us... Was that a greeting?"

"Well damn, it is! Tell him yes!" Randall replied rapidly. He certainly didn't want any misunderstandings here. The translator replied with a series of rasp barking noises and guttural _"arr" _sounds that Randall could barely make any sense out of. He could only assume that _was _even a language.

The anthropomorphic wolf, upon hearing what the translator relayed to him, seemed immeasurably relieved. The wolf gave a short howl, then a series of incomprehensible barks.

"Er...he acknowledges your greetings...in a good way... and he comes in peace too. He also wishes you to know he has no love for the Covenant. He also states that he wishes our..._nations _to meet and co-operate. As for that last sentence however, I have no idea what it means. Our decoders haven't fully deciphered their speech patterns yet."

The Admiral nodded. "That'll do. Tell our _friend_ here that we also are against the Covenant and that we will spare whatever materials their pilots and fighters need. Also, tell him that I, Vice Admiral of this fleet, will release him soon and we mean him no harm... oh, and is it possible to ask him whether they can grant us access to their transmissions archives? We need their language decoded...and _fast. _"

The poor translator blinked a few times. "Er...well, yes Sir. _Vice Admiral _is going to be a little difficult to translate though...Anything else?"

"No, that'll be all," Randall smiled. He extended a hand across the table towards the wolf.

The alien stared at his hand...then...tentatively, raised his own arm too. His paw gingerly made its way towards the centre of the desk slowly, and at last clutched the admiral's hand and shook it. The alien grinned and uttered what was likely his 'thank you'.

Vice Admiral Randall inwardly felt immensely relieved. First contact with the Covenant hadn't gone too well...thankfully; second contact appeared to be an improvement. And now, with the formalities out of the way, it was time to find out how much these new species knew about the Covenant...and why they were bugging them.

**UNSC Military Calendar 2553, Date Unknown, Location Unknown**

"_Don't let her go...Don't...Ever...let her go..."_

_"Maybe someone up there is wondering what it's like here..."_

_"But you did it...Truth and the Covenant and the Flood...it's finished ..."_

Voices...so many voices...all of them drifting in the recesses of his mind. Flashbacks replayed over and over again... the early months of SPARTAN physical training which pushed him to his limits... his childhood friends Kelly and Sam...And fast forwarded all the way to the titanic explosion that ripped the "_Forward unto dawn_" apart. Those images, fuzzy, faint and jumbled up, clouded his memories.

_"Wake me...when you need me..."_

But the last voice...his own...aroused him from his waking dreams.

"_Wake me..."_

John 117 awoke with a start. A split second later, his head throbbed painfully, paralysing him temporarily. When the pain subsided somewhat, he blearily opened his eyes once more.

The first thing that was wrong was that Cortana wasn't here. She would have spoken upon sensing his consciousness. Second; he had been stripped down to his under-suit. His armour meanwhile, lay solemnly on the carpeted floor beside him.

And third...he was in a house of some sort.

Chief got up, wincing slightly. His trusty Magnum was lying on an ornate little table by the bedside. Without haste, he grabbed it. Feeling the metal of the weapon on the palms of his hand was a comforting feeling. At least he was now armed. Master Chief proceeded to don his Mjolnir armour, topping it off with the helmet. He also loaded a fresh clip into the sidearm (strangely, his ammunition pouch had been left untouched). Only thing missing now was the most important piece of his armament; Cortana. He couldn't help but feel a surge of unease without her.

Master Chief switched his gaze to the little room he was in. For the most part, it was sparsely furnished. Save for a low bed; lined with silken sheets, that almost touched the floor and a round little bedside table, the room was devoid of any other furniture. The floor consisted of polished wooden planks that glimmered faintly under the reddish lights of the dying sun. A silky carpet that had intricate patterns sewn into it covered the floorboards beside the bed.

The balcony doors too, had been swung wide open; imposing the impression the room lacked a third wall. Instead, picturesque mountains and a wide expanse of forest took its place. Master Chief ventured through the folding doors and out to the balcony.

As Chief stuck his head out, he realised the balcony; and probably the rest of this house was being held up by a rocky outcrop. Far below him was a rushing stream and beyond that, an overgrown forest. Strategically speaking, this place made a great fortress.

As the soldier spun around, he noticed for the first time a door frame that was covered by a translucent veil. "_Must lead to the rest of the house...' _Master Chief reasoned.

With the Magnum in his right hand, he slowly brushed the veil away and strode out of the room.

Chief found himself in an open courtyard. A well of some sort was positioned in the centre while wooden pillars on the periphery of the court held up a second floor. Beside the well was an alien tree the likes Chief had never seen before. Its bark was ashen white while its palm like leaves was mahogany.

Chief walked forward and stroked the trunk of the tree. It felt unnaturally smooth. As he pulled his hand away, he noticed a white ash-like residue smeared upon his gloved palm.

"_That is the 'Ẽaestral tree', a tree native to these lands," _drifted a voice from somewhere behind Chief. Master Chief spun himself around, his M6G Magnum trained on the source of the voice.

From the shadows, a hooded figure emerged. The figure spread its hands open.

_"I mean no harm. I'm unarmed." _The mysterious figure half-whispered.

"Who are you?" growled Master Chief suspiciously, "And why did you help me?"

_"What are you...that is the better question." _The voice chuckled warmly. With a flourish, the figure pulled down its raven cloak. The cloak tumbled down and spilled at the feet of the formerly hooded stranger.

It was the anthropomorphic fox that Chief had glimpsed in the drawings on the rocks. As in the drawings, his fur was sky blue, complete with tattoos pressed upon his slender arms. However, unlike the half naked figures that appeared in those carvings, this fox was dressed in a simple white toga. Also, he seemed old; Chief could discern patches of white lining his otherwise blue fur. His sea-green eyes shimmered with sentience and intelligence. That disconcerted Master Chief; greatly.

"_In answer to your second question, I too, share no love for the Flood" _

"Wait...is your species at war with the Flood too? Mine were" spoke Chief. He lowered his gun. Perhaps in this hostile universe...humanity might just find a new friend after all.

_"We were at war once" _answered the fox sadly. Master Chief blinked.

_"My kind has been wiped out. Only I and a few others remain. The rest have been devoured by the Flood... the planet you are stepping on...is a replica of my homeworld; Cerinia. This planet, is the Ghost of Cerinia" _

"Replica of your homeworld? So what happened to the original?" queried Chief, "...And how did you learn English anyway?"

The vulpine sighed wearily. _"My tale is long. It will interest you too...for they are intertwined with your own struggle against the Covenant."_

"The Covenant? How did you know we..." Chief gaped.

_"All in good time young one. Let us find somewhere more comfortable." _The fox replied. The vulpine serenely strode to a crumbling stone bench located at the corner of the court and sat. Chief followed suit; albeit warily.

A chilly breeze swept across the courtyard, in its trail a smattering of rustling brown leaves that danced with the wind. The fox stared at the bloodied sky, his eyes pensive.

_"My name is Lidas, ruler of what was once the Kingdom of Cerinia. Hailing from the bloodline of the Cardinal Sun, I ruled Cerinia for 79 peaceful years. That is...until that traitor came. _

_Andross... that was his name. He came under the guise of peace and scientific pursuit. In reality, he was a pawn of the Covenant. The Covenant has been spying on us for several years now. What they didn't know however, was that we were fully aware of their presence. What we didn't know however, was why they were here..._

_Andross was the perfect spy. We did not know he came from the Covenant for he was a local of the Lylat system; a system that we were neighbours with. With a dose of charisma and a generous gift, we were all fooled. _

_What you must know about this planet was that it was the 2__nd__ Halo Control... it controlled the other 7 rings. _

_Don't let appearances fool you. The Ghost of Cerinia may not have the traits of the other Halos....namely the ring-world... but it was the centre of everything the Forerunners built. It was the back-up control should the Ark fail and most importantly... the ghost housed the weapon which would undo the Flood. _

_The original planet meanwhile...the Cerinia where I was born on and where my people once lived, was a gateway to the Ghost of Cerinia...it was a gateway to the 2__nd__ Halo Control. However, deep within the bowels of Cerinia lies a self-destruct device, its purpose to destroy the link to the 2__nd__ Halo Control should the Flood arrive. Our archaeologists also assumed that the 2__nd__ Halo Control was meant to be the housing place of a small contingent of Forerunner researchers and that once they had safely fled to the 2__nd__ Halo Control, they would self-destruct Cerinia, severing off all contact with the Flood infested galaxy. Once isolated, they could activate the weapon...the mystery was, the Forerunners never used it in the end. In fact, it seemed almost abandoned...until we found the weapon."_

"_The Forerunners...they have been busy indeed. They created a weapon which would effectively end the Flood. And the weapon itself was ingenious...instead of aiming to wipe the Flood out, it aimed to control it."_

"Control the Flood?" Master Chief found the phrase hard to believe, "Then why bother with the Halos in the first place? And why didn't the Forerunners ever use it?"

"_That, my friend, was because the weapon was developed only late in the war, when the Halos had been built. But the real mystery was why the weapon was never used in the end... everything was in place, yet at the last moment, the Forerunners disappeared..."_

"I think I know why," Master Chief replied darkly.

The vulpine looked up, seeming rather surprised.

"Mendicant Bias...the AI...he betrayed the Forerunners. Thanks to his defectionto the Flood, he prevented the Forerunners from fleeing to Onyx, the planet which was to serve as shelter from the Halos. Possibly, his betrayal also prevented the Forerunners from reaching Cerinia."

"_Odd...I don't recall coming across those memories..." _mumbled the vulpine.

"...Excuse me?" replied Chief. That statement immediately struck him as odd. 

"_Pardon me" _smiled the fox, "_But I think you should know this as well: my race is telepathic. That is: we can look into the memories and thoughts of others. Telekinesis is also yet another ability of ours. Do excuse me warrior...for that is how I have come to know so much about you. It was the only way to confirm you were a friend. That too...is how I came to know the language you called English."_

Master Chief felt as if he had been stripped bare. This alien standing before him...this complete stranger...probably knew all of his most intimate thoughts and memories...more than even his closest friends would ever know. That disconcerted him yet again. But yet...he felt no anger or shame towards this vulpine.

"I understand. You did what you had to do." Master Chief said.

The vulpine tipped his head respectfully, "_Your understanding is appreciated, warrior. Not many who are new to this would have reacted as graciously as you did."_

"_And another thing; the Flood forms of my former brethren posses our abilities too, although in a more crude form. However, they can still cause hurt through their minds alone, as you experienced the night before."_

"One whole day? That's how long I have been knocked out?" gaped Master Chief.

"_Yes. The mind attack certainly drained a lot from you," _mused the vulpine, "_And it also placed the computer chip which had been inter-faced into your brain in a temporary hibernation mode. But I'm certain it will re-activate later,"_

"You mean Cortana? So...she'd be alright?" Chief asked. That A.I had come to mean a lot of things to him in the years that had passed. She was also the closest thing he had to a relative.

"_It...She will be."_

"_Now, onto my story. The traitor Andross was sent here by the Covenant to confirm the location of the portal that would lead to the Ghost of Cerinia; where the weapon was located. You see, the Covenant had no idea where the Ghost of Cerinia was. The portal was the only solution should they ever want to reach the 2__nd__ Halo control. However, at this point, we doubt the Covenant knew that the Ghost of Cerinia housed a weapon of any sort. _

_Meanwhile, Andross secretly found the portal after several years of searching and gaining of out trust. He and his thugs most likely reported the location of it immediately to the Covenant. At this point however, for reasons unknown, Andross accessed the portal...and entered the Ghost of Cerinia. Why? We cannot be certain. Perhaps on orders from the Covenant...perhaps out of greed and curiosity. Either way, it didn't take long for him to find the specimens of the Flood located on the Ghost...and the weapon which would grant him control of the Flood. _

_We discovered his activities only when we realised Andross had not been seen anywhere across Cerinia for a good several weeks. When we reached the portal; to our horror, we found out it had been opened. _

_Andross then did something desperate and evil...something we can never forgive him for. He unleashed the Flood upon all of us. Worse still...he had learned how to use the weapon._

_The infection consumed our populace in a matter of days. Cities after cities fell. _

_It became evident the only way to stop the Flood and Andross was the way the Forerunners had devised so many millennia ago. A contingent of ships was prepared to transport whatever that was left of our race out of our dying planet. Meanwhile...I chose to stay behind to activate the self-destruct device...I, as the king of Cerinia, had failed to see the menace Andross would become, and it was fitting that I should pay for my sins by destroying the Flood...and kill Andross. _

_Andross knew of my plans...and travelled to the planet's core to stop me. I intended to travel to the core and detonate the device when he arrived, but my men were adamant I escape to safety. They did something no one would ever have dared perform on a king..."_

The vulpine chuckled sadly, "_My warriors rendered me unconscious by crippling my mind...same as what the Flood form did to you. Once knocked out, my men carried me to the portal and beyond. The rest of them...they sacrificed themselves. They fought off Andross and his Flood army...and they activated the device. Thanks to the fact Andross was distracted by the device, my men and I, together with a small group of survivors, could escape to the Ghost of Cerinia. As for Andross...I assume he is dead, together with the bulk of the Flood army." _

An oppressive silence filled the courtyard. Even the rustling leaves fell quiet. A gloomy glow of magenta fell upon the duo as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon.

"I'm so sorry," muttered Master Chief, "Your people have suffered much to ensure the Flood's destruction."

"_Don't be," _replied the vulpine, "_We brought this upon ourselves. We should_ _have seen Andross as the monster he was...but we failed to do so. And we have paid for that mistake, in blood."_

"_The Flood forms you see here is the small garrison that Andross left behind. With his presumed death however, and the destruction of the portal, the Flood is now without a master and hence, is mostly harmless unless provoked. Also...this planet is literally in the middle of nowhere. There is nothing but empty space for light-years around. This at least...should ensure the 2__nd__ Halo Control will remain hidden from the Covenant for the time being." _

The two fell silent again. Master Chief glanced at the fox and noticed that a pained look was painted on his aged face. The vulpine's eyes also seemed distant. His paw had been clenched into fist.

But Lidas soon stirred from his stupor and rose.

"_Shame on me. I forgot I had a guest here," _smiled the fox, "_You must be hungry; you have not eaten for a day. Come! Tonight, you shall feast and sleep soundly. That is the least I can do for you." _

"Thank you," replied Chief, however, he flashed one last look of concern at the wizened ruler of Cerinia, "You feeling alright though? You seem shaky."

"_No, I'm not alright...but I will be. Thank you for your concern warrior...just recalling come rather unpleasant memories, that's all."_

Master Chief had a great urge to question the vulpine further, starting with a description of who Andross was and what his people knew of the Covenant. However, the old king looked tired...and interrogating him further would be pushing his hospitality. Chief decided to wait for tomorrow. His stomach suddenly emitted an audible rumble, a reminder that even super-humans needed a real meal after months of cryogenic sleep and 2 days without food.

Lidas grinned upon hearing the rumble. _"This way. Your belly's hunger will be soon sated."_

The fox led the Spartan warrior into a hallway that had been located directly behind the bench they were seated upon moments before. As the duo strode into the hallway, Chief noted an open sky-light 3 floors up that allowed sunlight to fall through, naturally lighting up the interiors. The walls were made of a glassy stone that glimmered slightly while the floor was made of wood; just as it had been in the bedroom. Chief could also see the corridors of the 2nd and 3rd floors from where he was. All in all, the house very much resembled a traditional Japanese spa house.

After marching through yet another open courtyard and an endless maze of corridors, Chief was struck with the impression that this house was larger than it really looked. Also along the way, he spied upon the occupants of the compound. A vulpine soldier; armed with a golden staff the Flood combat form Chief encountered earlier also possessed, bowed respectfully at the king when the duo passed walked by. However, the soldier flashed Master Chief an odd look.

Chief also spotted what was probably a child, as he glimpsed upon a fox that was barely a meter's tall and with bright, demure eyes. However, as Lidas and Master Chief strode by, the little vulpine squealed and hid behind a pair of folding doors. Lidas chuckled warmly at the sight.

Finally, they entered what was probably a kitchen of sorts. Metallic stoves lined the entire length of the kitchen while in the centre of the spacious room, there was a massive table surrounded by stools. And lying upon that massive table was...

"Food," Master Chief gruffly exclaimed.

Upon closer examination, the meal appeared to consist exclusively of fruits and vegetables. Save for a bowl of steaming stew that smelled distinctively of flesh, everything else was not meat.

_"My apologies; meat usually isn't a part of our diet. Beans and milk supplement_ _us with_ _the proteins we need. However, as I've noted humans are omnivorous, I have specially ordered my chef to prepare an Aedral stew. The Aedral is a bird native o Cerinia; and considered a delicacy."_The vulpine said as he pointed to the many plates and dishes laid out upon the dining table.

"Thank you," replied Chief. He turned around and slipped 2 fingers underneath his helmet and squeezed on the catch. Immediately, his helmet clicked open, and he slowly lifted the bulky piece of equipment from his head.

_"Enjoy your meal," _smiled the vulpine, "_Sadly however, I cannot join you. I have matters to attend to. There is a guard outside the kitchen if you need anything...Bon appetite!" _With that, Lidas spun around and slipped through the doors, his movements lithe and soundless.

"...Bon appetite?" Master Chief wondered out loud. He shook his head. The crafty old fox must have delved deep into his mind for him to uncover that phrase. Chief pushed the thought aside and dove into his dinner. For the moment, all that mattered was to quench his ravenous hunger. Everything else could come later. 


	6. A long time coming

**Cornerian Calendar May 27****th**** 1600 Hours, En-route to UNSC Carrier 'Fist of Oceania' **

Fox McCloud couldn't help but sneak a curious peak at the rear window of the Pelican drop-ship as the vehicle unleashed yet another jerky lurch. He couldn't pick out much, save for feathery clouds that fogged up the glass and a dull carmine glow as the ship slowly accelerated. McCloud shifted uneasily and eyed the rest with a worried glance.

John Husky appeared tense too. His hazel eyes darted repeatedly from the bay window to the alien occupants of the ship; the hairless chimps. Well, perhaps not the politest of terms but then again, judging from the awestruck expressions of those chimps; they probably had a couple of nasty names reserved for his fellow Lylatians too.

"_Bet we've earned a few nicknames ourselves" _McCloud thought to himself, as the alien female (or at least he assumed it was) seated directly in front of him whispered softly to her comrade, who chuckled grimly back.

Fox grimaced, wondering if he had been insulted unknowingly.

He didn't ponder upon that fact for long. The drop-ship suddenly took an extreme swerve to the left, as if avoiding something. The occupants of the ship were flung about, much to their protest. McCloud quietly prayed that the wounded alien and the others who had boarded the other Pelican Drop-ship were alright. From the look of things, they were about to head into trouble.

"The hell's going on?" Monty whispered tersely to Husky after their vehicle entered yet another bout of unexpected jerks. "The ride to their mother-ship sure is taking longer than expected..." The feline flicked his tail nervously.

"I don't know Monty" replied Husky, "Right now, I'm just hoping we don't bump into one of those alien fighters...And I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Lionel, Wayne and Samson are all alright on the other ship."

"We'll need to do more than cross of fingers to get out of this mess, that I can say," Snorted Sara Wells, who had been eavesdropping on their conversation, "The aliens...the hostile ones I mean, look intent on staying put. This conflict can only grow bigger."

No sooner had she said that when a flurry of panicked shouts erupted from the cockpit. The aliens seated opposite of them groaned and appeared at unease. However, the one alien with the brown skin seemed reserved in demeanour. He called out at the pilots, who in return replied with voices laced with distress. What those chimps were saying though was anybody's guess.

The dark skin one began informing of the Lylatians of the situation through sign language. Through his blistered hands, he gestured a hand-sign of a...

"A spaceship?" McCloud asked, pointing to the vehicle they were in. The brown skin alien nodded vigorously and proceeded with his communication. After a minute or so of that, it was Cooper who guessed what the alien was saying.

"We're about to come under attack by the hostile ones," Cooper announced to the rest, "And our friends here are doing their best to dodge their path. Looks like its utter chaos up there...I wonder why there aren't any escorts?"

**UNSC Calendar May 27****th**** 1600 Hours, En-route to UNSC Carrier 'Fist of Oceania'**

"This is Hotel Niner! I say it again; we need escort back to the carrier ASAP! Covenant closing in onto our positions fast! Over!"

"Hotel Niner, this is Command HQ. Longsword fighters en-route to your immediate sub-space co-ordinates. Please be advised sub-space is hot, there's a dogfight raging on... Over and out,"

"Roger, over and out!" replied the pilot hastily. His co-pilot meanwhile; who was seated behind and slightly above the cockpit, kept his eyes peeled on the scanner's screen. Personally, the drop-ship's pilot preferred the older arrangement where the co-pilot would have been seated beside him. But this was the D77H-TIC, an upgraded variant of the original Pelican drop-ship. Hence, his partner would now be behind him; and harder to talk to.

"Sir, scanner's picking up 7 boogies, Covenant Seraph Starfighters probably... approximately 1500 metres and closing," the co-pilot concluded as he read off the holographic screen.

The pilot swore under his breath. There was no way a drop-ship like the Pelican could outmanoeuvre or outgun a fighter, much less a Covenant one. Even dodging would be tricky. The D77H-TCI possessed two stubby and angular wings attached to its either sides. Powered by only 2 main engines; one on each wing, and 10 thrusters that were only useful for vertical take-off, no way in hell would this ship be able to match the speeds of a Seraph Starfighter. In fact, space flight wasn't even on the minds of the ship's designer. Worse still, the only armament the drop-ship had that was suitable against other aerial units was a single chin-mounted 70mm rotary cannon...which amounted to as good as nothing.

"And escort seems to be tangled up with a rear-guard of Seraph fighters further back. Looks like we'll be on our own for a while...unless we can rejoin with the rest of the fleet," the co-pilot announced grimly, "Any ideas on how to get out of this?"

The pilot fell into a thoughtful silence. His hands clenched the joysticks tightly and his jaws were locked. Only the low hum of the Pelican's engines filled the cockpit.

"If we can't outrun them or shoot them down, that leaves us with only 1 choice, hiding from them. I pray we'll only have to do this for at most 5 minutes..." the pilot replied, his face set in a grimace.

"...Because that's about as long as we'll survive," finished the co-pilot morbidly. The pilot decidedly pretended not to hear that.

The Seraphs were now just within visual range, their silhouettes outlined against the sun that was beginning to peek through from beyond the curvature of the planet. The pilot hastily made radio contact with the other Pelican trailing behind and announced his plans. With that done, his mind was now focused on surviving this encounter. Should he and his wingman accomplish that...well, it would be a nice story to recite for his grandchildren...provided he lived that long.

One thing he had and the Covenant Starfighters didn't have however, was combat experience. Just before the hostile formation could get a good lock for their charged up pulse lasers to fire on him, the pilot performed an unceremonious swerve to the left. Immediately, he could hear startled cries from the occupants seated behind.

The timing was perfect. The cyan orbs of laser sailed by harmlessly beside his ship, missing him by barely a few metres. The other drop-ship meanwhile, went to the right, also slipping by the enemy salvo.

The battle grew trickier. Now that the Seraphs were pressed right up against the 2 Pelicans, the drop-ships lacked any space to perform evasive manoeuvres. They were forced to dodge around a small cluster of asteroids that orbited the icy planet below.

The two Pelicans dived in and out of the asteroid belt, all the while doing their best to dodge the hail of lasers that continually showered; and missed them. 3 Seraphs broke away from the main formation and out of the belt to flank the beleaguered Pelicans from the sides while another one swooped upwards to strike from above.

"Crap, they're trying to flank us!" cursed the co-pilot. The pilot grunted in response and jerked on the controls. Immediately, the Pelican turned left and made a detour through yet another thick cluster of orbiting rocks. Halfway through, the pilot suddenly killed the engines of the drop-ship; and the Pelican came to a complete standstill.

"Their ranging gear probably won't be able to distinguish us from the asteroids. If we move carefully and stay low, we might be able to wait this out...and cut off all radio contact with the outside world too. I won't risk the Covenant tracking our comm signals down." The pilot ordered, his eyes peeled on the surrounding asteroid field for any movement. The co-pilot nodded in quiet agreement and turned off all communication channels on the ship's receivers.

The minutes ticked by. The co-pilot rapped his fingers nervously on the side-boards, filling the cockpit with a staccato of taps. The scanner meanwhile, displayed a myriad of tiny orbs moving at snail pace. They were either harmless asteroids; or the Seraph fighters so intent on hunting them down. The co-pilot prayed it wasn't the latter. In the meantime, the pilot kept his hands clutched around the joysticks, his senses keen and in heightened alert. On a signal, the Pelican would have to scamper again...it was a game of cat and mouse that would test his abilities to the limit...

"MAYDAY! I repeat! We have been hit! Any friendlies out there? We have taken a hit on our left wing and we're going down! We have lost all control and our fuel line is severed! We need ---"

Without warning, a distress signal from a nearby ship was played out over the drop-ship's receivers. Quick as it came, the transmission was abruptly stopped. Static buzzed across the air; and then the line went dead. A quick check of the scanner revealed that the other Pelican drop-ship in question had vanished from the screen.

"Sir, this came from the other Pelican...should we assist?" the co-pilot asked, though deep down, he already knew the answer.

"Negative. We stay hidden, or we're dead," the pilot answered with a heavy heart. "I'm sure you know that too,'

"Yes Sir...of course..."the co-pilot replied, and did his best to keep his guilt from welling up.

Another minute sailed by in oppressive silence. Just as the drop-ship pilot wondered if reinforcements would ever show up, the cavalry finally arrived right on the mark.

"Hotel Niner, this is Bravo Five. Back-up has arrived and needs your co-ordinates for escort. Do you copy? Over,"

The pilot suppressed a whoop of joy and controlled his voice. "Bravo Five this is Hotel Niner. We're now sending the co-ordinates. There are about 7 boogies out there, require extraction...and it's about damned time... Over,"

"Copy that. En-route to your location...and stay safe. Over and out," The signal was cut off.

"About damned time they showed up!" the co-pilot chirped, echoing the pilot's views. "Should we move Sir?"

"We ain't out of the woods yet son," replied the pilot, "And I rather stay put till..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the co-pilot cut him off.

"Seraphs incoming from behind! 500 metres and closing! I'm pretty sure it's them!" the co-pilot hollered as he crammed his headset back onto his both ears.

The pilot needed no further warning. With a flick of a switch, the engines went back online and the Pelican swooped through a throng of rocks and out into open space.

A laser suddenly burst out from somewhere behind them and lanced right through a nearby asteroid. The rock was instantaneously vaporised into a purplish gas.

The Pelican pushed onwards. Just a little further ahead, the Longsword fighters had finally arrived, fresh from an engagement with the Covenant fleet and ready to take on the squadron of Seraphs pursuing behind. The pilot accelerated his little drop-ship to the fastest its underpowered engines could manage. And behind the Pelican, the Seraphs emerged from the asteroid field, their pulse lasers ablaze.

The pilot swerved the Pelican to the left, and then to the right, doing his best to dodge the volley of lasers. And at last, after 7 nerve wrecking minutes of playing hide and seek with the Seraphs, the game was finally over.

The C709-Longsword interceptors got within range and fired an initial salvo of ASGM0-10 missiles. At about the same time, the Seraphs broke away from their pursuit. Now, it was their turn to dodge the missiles. The pilot smiled inwardly at the change of roles.

By chance, 2 of the missiles found their mark. A Seraph fighter erupted into a slowly expanding ball of fire mid-flight.

Realising they were now out-numbered and cut off from their fleet, the Seraphs at last decided to escape. With a thrust of their engines, the Seraphs made a pell-mell dash out of the battle zone. Most of the squadron of Longswords continued their chase while 10 others remained behind to escort the Pelican back to the carrier.

"Hotel Niner, this is Bravo Five. Wasn't there another Pelican?" came a query from one of the escorting Longswords.

"They were shot down back in the asteroid field.... Over,"

"Did you pick up any transmissions from survivors?"

"No."

"...Roger that. Over and out,"

**Cornerian Calendar May 27****th**** 9.40pm, Cornerian Capital -- Pericles Space Dock**

Krystal checked her watch yet again and frowned.

"_Late..." _she thought grumpily to herself. "_Then again, it's Star Wolf. What else can I expect from those clowns?"_

She resumed pacing around the dock's cargo platform.

The station was busy that night; busier than it usually was anyway. And more disturbing still, the many ships that were docked at the station were military carriers (The Cornerian Self Defence Force logo was emblazed upon them). Massive cranes arced over the platform, their electro-magnetic hooks busily loading and unloading supplies stocked inside titanium capsules into the transports. And underneath the bustle, a sense of urgency seemed to have gripped the space dock...and perhaps all of Corneria. The skies were darkening once again...and the Lylatians knew it.

Krystal sighed. Then again, on the plus side, that meant more jobs for their mercenary outfit to complete; and that meant pay.

But still...deep down...she didn't care much for the money. She never had much taste for the finer aspects of living, even when she was a princess living in a palace back on Cerinia...

_Cerinia...The home I'll never see again... _Krystal grimaced and struggled to not dig up unpleasant memories. No, she had never missed her comfortable life. What she missed most was her family...her friends...and her lost love.

Krystal was startled to find fresh tears upon her cheeks. She clumsily wiped them away and stifled a sniff.

_"Behave yourself," _she commanded herself sternly, "_You're in a public place...don't go to pieces like that..." _Krystal hastily collected herself and did a quick scan on the minds of the workers around the docks. Nope, none of them had seen her cry. She prayed no male would ever have to see her that vulnerable...she detested the thought of it. The only time that ever happened was when...

"Fox..." she whispered to herself, her soft voice barely audible. A profound sense of longing and misery overwhelmed her. She may have loathed McCloud for forcing her to stay behind...but she still loved him. _But yet..._

Krystal removed a golden locket from a pocket on her suit. Its surface was unblemished and carefully polished...the product of years of careful maintenance. Upon the rim of the trinket were a series of Cerinian runes; all carefully inscribed by paw. The craftsmanship was impressive; for the calligraphy was miniscule, yet had been rendered graceful and fluid. And chipped into the centre of the locket was the Cardinal Sun; the symbol of Krystal's bloodline. She stroked the surface gingerly and smiled sadly. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again; the memories that flooded back into her mind proved to be too strong for her. It had been years...and she missed him still...

A pang of guilt struck Krystal. She had dated Fox McCloud for more than a year...yet, she still hadn't told him about it...

_"But it wouldn't be appropriate!" _she argued with herself, "And_ besides...he's long gone... He would have wanted me to be happy too. We had even made a covenant upon that." _

"_Even still, you should have told Fox," _her conscience argued back slyly, "_Being a hypocrite are you Krystal? You accuse him of leaving you...yet...behind McCloud's back...there was already another..."_

_"_Shut it," she growled to herself.

"Who? Me?" A mischievous but yet familiar voice piped up from somewhere behind.

Krystal swung herself around and found the scowl on her face quickly dissolving.

There, leaning against a pillar, with the usual cheeky glint in his eyes and adorned in a flight suit; was Falco Lombardi.

"Falco!" gasped Krystal, "Wow...long times no see! What brings you here?"

"Same reasons as you are probably, "chuckled Falco, "If there's one good thing about a war, it's the sudden hot demand for mercenaries. Besides, I need the action too. This old bird hasn't gotten into a proper dog fight since...well, since Star Fox. But enough about me, what brings _you _here?"

Krystal smiled. Falco was still as cocky as ever, and she was glad for that fact. It brought her familiarity in a world that was quickly becoming cold and alien.

"You guessed it; I need the pay too," laughed Krystal, "And before I forget, I can't describe how glad I am to see you here. Haven't seen friendly faces in a while."

"Not even McCloud?" the avian snidely added in. Krystal glowered at him menacingly, forcing Falco to make a hurried apology.

"Alright! Alright! Sorry about that! Sheesh... ...personally, Fox still loves you. Just thought I'll add that in. Frankly though, it was wrong of him to have dumped you like that."

Krystal sighed. "Apology accepted. Yeah, I know he loves me... but I'm still angry with him for pushing me away like that. But enough about my tragic little life, how's yours?"

Falco shrugged. "Not that much better. My love life; or lack of it, isn't exactly going well too. It was rather heart breaking when I broke off with Katt Monroe...but it wouldn't feel right unless I'm in the cockpit of a fighter I guess. No regrets taken that I chose this path."

"Good for you...at least you know where you're headed... Say, how's Slippy? I haven't heard from him in a while."

"Believe it or not: engaged," grinned Falco, "And from that look on your face, I'm guessing it's a not."

Krystal blinked. "Slippy? The Slippy we know? A husband?" She paused for a second. Inexplicably, she began to snicker. Soon, that snicker grew into a series of chortles, before finally ending into an unchecked howl of laughter.

"I see you doubt the romantic capabilities of old Slippy," smirked Falco, "You gotta hand it to him though; compared to us, he's having the most successful love life so far. That makes him practically a lady's man."

"I-I suppose you're right," snickered Krystal as her outburst died down. She wiped tears away from her eyes, "Oh by the Goddess...that was funny. I shouldn't be laughing like that...my congratulations to him anyway... ...Wow! A married Slippy... I'm glad to know someone has had a happier ending."

"Me too," smiled Falco, "And I think you probably needed that laugh anyway. Oh! That reminds me! Are you alone?"

"Er...well, no." Krystal replied grudgingly. She had considered lying to Falco about her recent recruitment into Star Fox...but decided against it after a split second thought. He would find out soon enough anyway.

"Really? Who did you team up with? Anyone I know?" Falco asked; his curiosity genuinely piqued.

"Yeah, I think you'll know them...in fact, here they are now."

Striding towards the duo from across the loading platform was the Star Fox team; now fully dressed in flight suits. As they came closer, both they and Falco seemed to stop and stare at the other in surprise, then distrust.

"They survived the Aparoids! But Krystal ...what the hell are you doing with those goons? "Falco whispered tersely as he glared at the trio.

"Since Star Fox isn't going to take me in, I guess they're the only alternative left...sorry Falco," Krystal quietly, feeling rather guilty inside.

Soon, Wolf O' Donnell, Leon Powalski and Panther Caroso reached Krystal and Falco. The two groups stood in an oppressive silence. Falco glared at the Star Wolf team, his intense dislike for them still well lit after all these years.

"Hello Leon...still cleaning up after Wolf I see," said Falco coolly.

"Very funny little bird...and where's McCloud? Not being a maid to him like you always do?" Leon replied in his raspy voice.

"What was that Leon? I can't hear you. Sounds like you've got a bad sore throat...or you just weren't that good a fighter," laughed Falco.

"You..." rasped Leon furiously.

Wolf cut the two of them off, "Enough! We didn't come here to pick a fight, bird. Just stay out of our way...or we won't be so kind the next time we meet. Krystal! We'll be leaving soon! We've got a new assignment."

Krystal flashed Falco one last apologetic look before walking over to the Star Wolf side.

"Well, bye Krystal," he said, albeit sadly.

"And bye little lizard," Falco smirked as he waved sarcastically at Leon. The chameleon pretended not to notice, only returning Falco with a cold, calculating stare.

As Krystal walked alongside the Star Wolf team, she turned back to catch a glimpse of Falco. However, the avian had long disappeared.

"Bye Falco," she whispered under her breath, before turning around, and marching on resolutely to a new life.


	7. Loose ends

**A/N: Sorry for the delay between chapter 6 and 7. I had a school exam to worry about. But now that that's done and away with, I think I can now focus on churning out more chapters...hopefully 3 or 4 more chapters till the year's end. And any of you guys played Halo ODST yet? I'm hoping a PC version will come out soon (Seeing that I lack an X-box...*Sob*) Either way, I will most likely be including those soldiers in (They have a potential for pure epic-ness) in the coming battles ahead, when the war gets closer to home (AKA: Corneria) Stay tuned!**

**UNSC Calendar May 27****th**** 1645 hours, onboard "Fist of Oceania"**

"Get elements of the 15th squadron to cut off their god damn retreat! And I don't care how you are gonna do it captain! We sure as hell aren't going to have to track them down all over again!"

Vice admiral Randall bellowed angrily at the holographic screen projected just a few feet away from him. Though the balding man he was howling at was miles away from the admiral, the poor captain was shuddering; as if the admiral had been yelling at him in the face.

I'm sorry Sir but we don't have enough men... the 15th Squadron is desperately under strength...All we have are 2 frigates and a compliment of Longsword fighters. The reserve 21st Squadron is currently engaging other retreating elements of the Covenant fleet over planetary sectors: 27A-42. If we are to delay the Covenant, we will need the rest of the battle group!"

"Damn it captain, you know that we are unable to assist. Those blasted Seraphs are hounding our flanks and we are barely holding up," replied the admiral in frustration, his gloved fingers irritably drumming the command dashboard, "Alright captain, here's the plan...forget direct engagement. Apply long range tactics; just strike the fleet with MAC rounds. Stay out of their firing range. Try to lure their fleet into attacking you, or at least hold em' up for a while. I'll attempt to bring parts of the battle group to relieve you. Understood?"

"Yes Sir," answered the captain, though his resignation was ill concealed. His meagre force could do little and even harassing the Covenant fleet was most likely suicidal. Still, an order was an order.

"Thank you captain," said the admiral, albeit a little more kindly this time. With a light tap on the holo-screen, the projection blinked out of existence. The admiral sighed deeply and reluctantly got to his feet. He glanced at the command screen, where his forces were shown to be mostly out-numbered by a far superior Covenant fleet. Obeying the Fleet admiral's orders of delaying that very fleet had proven strenuous for his men... and was pushing his battle group to its limits.

"Officer, what are the latest movements?" asked Randall.

The intelligence officer replied promptly, "Same as they were Sir; the Seraphs are trying to cut down our Longswords as they leave the carrier and have mostly stuck to strafing attacks on our ships. Some of these Seraphs are also moving towards sub-space sectors 55B-49; most likely to cut off the retreat of any friendlies on the planet. The main fleet is also beginning to move out; possibly for a slip-space run."

"Damn it," muttered the vice admiral for the umpteenth time. By the way things were going; he would have to count himself fortunate if didn't get overrun by the sheer volume of Seraph fighters that were striking everywhere. And during all this while, the battle-group's stocks of Longsword interceptors were dwindling from the attrition damage... if Hood and the main fleet didn't get here soon...

"Sir! Good news! POWs extracted! 21st squadron en-route back to the main fleet!" the intelligence officer announced with relief.

"Excellent. Send them to assist the 15th squadron ASAP," replied Randall, "Finally... some good luck."

"Yes Sir, relaying orders." The officer grabbed his headset and began issuing the vice admiral's new directives.

Just then, the entire carrier released an involuntary shudder. Alarms began ringing, each wail sombrely echoing through the bowels of the ship. On every screen, warning signs were displayed. And vice admiral Randall could just about discern shouts and screams emanating from below him.

"The hell was that?" Randall asked.

"We just took a hit through the carrier's stern. It looks bad. Carrier is now sealing off affected compartments. Implementing damage control," The carrier's damage assessment officer replied, "And we lost around 5 to 10 Longswords which were unfortunately present in the repair chambers.

"Dammit," cursed the admiral, "Our ammo storerooms compromised in any way?"

"No Sir...for now," the officer answered grimly.

The vice admiral gritted his teeth as he stared at the situation map. They were growing increasingly outnumbered...and the main fleet was slipping away. And where the hell was Admiral Hood? If there was a better time for the cavalry to show up, it was now.

"Admiral! We've received a comm. Signal from Hood! He's here!" bellowed one of the comm signal officer from his station, "Now linking up to him..."

Vice admiral Randall hurried over to the comm. station. A holographic screen popped up from the projector and there; on the screen, was the man himself.

"Admiral Hood...god damn you for showing up late," growled Randall, "...and bless you for coming. We were about to fight them with sticks and stones."

"I wouldn't be too surprised vice admiral," replied Hood, sounding half bemused, "Just send us the coordinates, our main fleet now en-route to assist. Hang in there. Out."

The vice admiral saluted. "Out."

**Cornerian Calendar 27****th**** May 27****th**** 1700 Hours, onboard "Fist of Oceania"**

Fox McCloud had to admit; he was impressed.

With a paw, he nonchalantly ran a finger along the nozzle of the star fighter; admiring the handiwork. The vehicle was somewhat similar in design to the fighters which the Cornerian Navy built. Like the latter, it was angular and sleek in design...and from the feel and looks of it, probably made of the same material too.

_Probably some form of composite carbon nano-tube material_, McCloud thought to himself as he thumped on the wing of the fighter with a fist.

As for the fighter's armament...well...McCloud had to guess. The interceptor utilised missiles, as he had witnessed earlier in the dogfight, but they were well concealed. Most likely the pair of flaps along the sides of the wings shielded the missiles from plain sight. However, he could spy a chain gun located at the tip of the fighter, slightly tucked away into the belly of the plane.

As Fox strolled to the side of the fighter, he noticed a painting that had been sprayed onto the fuselage. The vulpine paused and went in for a closer look. It resembled one of the alien females he saw earlier; except that the female in the painting was clad in a low cut red dress and possessed a far more voluptuous figure. A short string of words had also been elegantly inked onto the body of the fighter, directly below the painting.

_ Shame I have no idea what those words mean, _Fox wondered to himself, _perhaps that female was the pilot's mate..._

"Fox! Ah, there you are!" exclaimed a voice.

Fox McCloud spun around and found himself looking at John Husky, who was sprinting along the length of the hangar. Fox noted the canine had changed out of his battle dress and now donned only a military issue T-shirt.

"We received word from one of the aliens that a certain 'sergeant Dave' would like to meet you immediately. He just landed on this carrier a little while back," John panted slightly as he collected his breath.

Fox was immediately rapt with attention. "He's here? Where is he? I have to see him urgently too,"

"An escort will take us there," replied John. Behind the canine, a pair of armed alien soldiers appeared through the side exit which Husky had emerged from moments before.

"Right then, let's go! Hopefully, we can rejoin our squadron before long," said Fox. John hurried after him.

As the group exited the hangar, John whispered urgently to Fox, "What's going on by the way? You haven't exactly explained much about what's happening in the world outside. Is Corneria ready for war? And how big was your squadron anyway?"

"Well..." Fox replied uncomfortably as he rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm not exactly at liberty to discuss this..."

"Look, I'm a soldier too," said John a little angrily, dropping all pretences of politeness, "Surely I have the god damned right to know what the army is doing about this,"

The group now found themselves in a lift lobby. One of the soldiers placed a palm on a touch-screen which was located just beside the doors of the elevator. The screen glowed green and the double doors of the lift clumsily slid open with a shudder.

As the group stepped into the lift, Fox whispered back, "Alright, alright. I suppose there is stuff I AM allowed to say. My squadron wasn't big actually, just 40 Wolfen-III fighters and 10 transport vessels. We were tasked with extracting high ranking officers from Tiranus and whoever that made it to the designated evacuation points."

"But...thing was...I made stupid mistake to help those aliens who were engaged in a dog fight with those other 'not-so-friendly' aliens. And my fighter was shot down. So here I am."

John silently began absorbing the sudden inflow of information. "Did you lose anyone else? We saw a couple more fighters crashing into the mountains just now...back when we were on Tiranus."

Fox seemed wracked with guilt. "I don't know. Were those fighters ours?"

"I don't know too," said John quietly.

The duo fell into a taciturn silence. The lift chugged onwards nevertheless, replacing the lull with the muffled grating of metal against metal.

With a soft 'click', the elevator doors finally reopened, leading into a brightly lit corridor.

Officers dressed in the grey uniforms of the UNSC navy strode through these corridors, pausing only to literally stop and stare at McCloud and Husky.

"We seem to be the centre of attention around these folks," chucked John in a low voice.

"I can't wait to leave this place," grunted Fox in reply. John laughed.

After 5 more minutes of navigating through the endless maze of passageways that twisted through the interiors of the carrier, the soldiers came to a halt before a large door. They held out their gloved hands to motion for Fox and Husky to stop too. One of the soldiers knocked upon the door and barked out a series of intermittent phrases. After a brief pause, the door slid open soundlessly.

"Dave!" exclaimed Fox as he rushed forward.

"McCloud, glad you're alive!" grinned Dave as he flashed a crisp salute.

"Bah, skip the formalities," smiled Fox, "Is the squad alright? Any other losses?"

"Sadly, yes," The grin on Dave's face fell. "2 fighters, excluding yours, went down. We couldn't pick up any S.O.S signals from any of them. That EMP bomb probably shorted out everything,"

"Well, those 2 fighters probably didn't make it then," Husky interrupted, "They crashed into the mountains. And we didn't see any escape pods."

"Who is he?" asked Dave.

"Dave, meet John Husky, proud member of the Elite 3rd Snow Regiment. Husky; meet Jeremiah Dave, pilot of the 3rd Recon squadron." Fox proclaimed.

"Snow Regiment eh?" said Dave, "I've heard about you lads...brilliant performance and service for the past 200 years...though I probably wouldn't envy your job,"

"Well, you aren't missing much. That I guarantee," laughed John.

Dave snorted. "I like this guy. Soldiers with a sense of humour...a rare breed these days."

"Anyway, I've been liaising with these aliens and they've promised to let all of you leave with us. We've already parked the transport vessels in the carrier; heh, those aliens were even nice enough to refuel for us. Anyway, we better leave soon. Looks like they are pursuing the Covenant fleet and we better get our asses off this ship before that happens,"

"Covenant?" asked McCloud.

Dave shrugged. "That's about the closest word we could find to translate what these aliens call themselves."

"Enough chit chat anyway," Husky cut in yet again, "I better gather my team; they are still lounging around in the holding room I think. Care to lead us to your transport Dave?"

"Of course," bowed Dave somewhat sarcastically, "But first, we'll have to wait for instructions from HQ. I wired them the news of our contact with the aliens while Fox was MIA and seeing I was the temporary second in command. We need to get the leadership of both sides in contact with each other first."

"Sadly, he's right. Diplomacy comes first," groused McCloud.

"Either way, I want to get back into the fight," answered John Husky, "I think we've been talking too much already."

**UNSC Military calendar 2553, Date: 3 Days since crash landing, Location: ghost of Cerinia**

It had been 2 days. 2 days since he had crash landed upon the grassy plains of Cerinia's sister planet. 2 days since he encountered the psychic race of vulpines that dwelled upon this world. And for those 2 days...they were one of the most peaceful he had known in years.

For the first time, he could sleep in comfort and with his mind at ease. No longer would he have to fear an ambush; not while he lived within the safety fortress palace anyway. And perhaps what the Master Chief was most grateful for...was the fact that he finally had real food; not the military issue MREs that had largely been his diet for the past few years...but REAL food. Hell, he had almost forgotten what fresh fruits tasted like until just yesterday.

Still, if there was one thing that still bothered him...

"_Are you alright, warrior?"_ Lidas seemed concerned. "_Perhaps we should take a break. Developing a resistance to our psychic attacks is not something that can be grown overnight."_

"No...No, I'm fine," gritted Master Chief through his teeth as he slowly heaved himself back upon his two feet. He hoped that the apricot orange of his visors would conceal his pained expression. Apparently, that didn't work.

_"This exercise is taking a great strain upon you, John. Prolonging it won't improve results. We will take a break." _Lidas answered with a granite resolution in his voice.

Master Chief nodded and lumbered back to the side of the courtyard. With a sigh of relief, he sat down heavily upon a stone bench.

He had been trying to ward off these psychic attacks for the past 2 days now...with little success. Lidas had agreed to be his teacher; something Chief felt grateful for. He had proven to be a very patient teacher indeed. Still, for all of their efforts, Chief could not block out the waves of crippling pain that descended upon him with every attack. This meant that should he be pitted against one of those Cerinian Flood forms, he was as good as a sitting duck.

"Still no luck?" queried Cortana from inside his helmet.

"Yeah..." grumbled Chief, "Wait, didn't you witness that practise? Kinda obvious still no luck, don't you think?"

Cortana feigned a cough. "Sorry, I was busy. I...actually didn't see what you were doing for the entire day."

"Busy with what?" asked Chief as he massaged his shoulders.

"Well...hmm... I've found out that I could actually intercept the psychic waves that Lidas transmitted in every one of those attacks, reason being that I was implanted into your helmet during the duration of the practise. And. ....I also realised that those waves can be tempered with."

"Ok, I'm officially interested," replied Chief, "Go on."

"Those waves that Lidas uses to incapacitate you are of an extremely high frequency and they seem to abide by a regular pattern," said Cortana, "I won't go into the technical details but basically, by emitting my own electronic pulses into those waves before they get to you, I can alter those waves. I can alter those waves to be much less painful and definitely much less lethal."

Chief was speechless.

"Cortana, you're a genius."

"I try my best," she replied smugly. " Also, it's possible I can even prevent these vulpines from reading your mind...provided that I can identify the wave type they use to do it."

"I re-affirm what I just said. You're a genius," chuckled Master Chief, "Can you really do it?"

"Possibly. But it'll be hard. Those waves are far more subtle, far more undetectable. I'll try though."

"Thanks very much Cortana," replied Master Chief.

"You can thank me by staying alive," said Cortana, sounding bemused, "Feel ready to practise some more? Let's see if it works." 

After repeatedly assuring Lidas he was alright, Lidas finally reluctantly agreed to resume the practise. Chief smiled inwardly to himself, _this time, Lidas is in for a surprise._

John strode to one corner of the courtyard while Lidas walked to the opposite end. The old fox breathed deeply, his face tilted towards the sky. For a moment, there was only the rustling of dried leaves upon the cracked ground. The sun bathed the pair in its mellow, evening light.

And then; Lidas spun around, his eyes locked upon Chief with a fierce glare.

Immediately, Chief's world exploded into a spasm of pain. It was as if a dagger had been driven through his skull. Such was the pain; it was immense, and concentrated. Chief struggled to regain his composure but a second wave was unleashed upon him. John could see spots of bright red inching into his vision again.

And then, the pain abruptly decreased in intensity. He could still feel it of course...but as compared to what he had just experienced, this affliction felt like a mere pinprick. Chief panted slightly and gazed at Lidas.

A look of fierce concentration was still imprinted upon the vulpine's wrinkled face, but the malady Chief felt no longer equated to the intense glare that Lidas was giving him.

Without warning, the mild pinch that master Chief had felt moments before subsided entirely. And Lidas was still savagely boring down upon him, his once kind face contorted into a hideous mask. But...Chief could feel no pain at all.

"Well done Cortana," chuckled Chief in a low voice, "It's working."

With a purposeful stride, Master Chief walked up and stopped in front of Lidas. With a faint smile, he tapped Lidas upon his shoulder.

"Dead," Chief muttered.

The demonic glare that had been fixated upon his face vanished. Instead, Lidas now appeared...exhausted. With a paw, he brushed fresh sweat off his snout.

"_How did you do it? It was almost as if...you were completely unaffected!" _

Master Chief laughed. "You'll have to thank Cortana for that, not me. Apparently, she altered the waves you were emitting and turned it into something harmless."

"_Fascinating..."_ the vulpine replied, rubbing his grizzled face, "_I wasn't aware that...hmmm..." _The fox fell into a thoughtful silence.

Chief coughed. "So, am I ready to head back to my downed ship? It's urgent I retrieve some of the equipment there."

"_Of course! No reason to keep you holed up here I suppose. But an escort will accompany you. The outside is a dangerous place. Beyond this palace, the Flood roam freely, remember that."_

"I will," said Master Chief respectfully, "And thank you for teaching me. And for the generosity you have displayed. Thank you for everything."

Lidas smiled and waved his paws. _"It was nothing. I am obliged to always treat a guest nicely. That is our tradition."_

"_But I only have one request; that you not leave today. You will need rest and food. Tomorrow, you will have a company of 12 of my best warriors to follow you and transport to take you there. And now, our lesson comes to an end."_

Chief bowed. "Thank you yet again."

As he walked up the winding stairwell to his lodgings on the top floor, Cortana exclaimed, sounding rather exasperated, "Back to action then, I guess?"

"Was that even a question?" asked Chief.

**A/N: My apologies for the relative lack of action. Even I got rather bored having to finish up some of the loose endings from the previous chapters. But I swear; more action in the next chapter. This is probably the last of the "mopping up", I swear!**


	8. Feet first!

**A/N: I'll keep this Author's note short... As promised, if the story won't come to action, the action will come to the story. **

**UNSC Calendar May 27****th**** 1800 Hours, En-route to Tiranus II**

"_**All systems check. Gears in order**_?"

"Yes Sir,"

"Good to go,"

"Armed and ready!"

"_**Good. Initiating drop. Remember boys, quick and clean,**_"

As the radio chatter died away, Kane could feel the various pieces of machinery and equipment in his Human Entry Vehicle (HEV) come alive. Little computer screens fastened to the 2 either sides of his pod widow flickered online. A dull whirl filled the confines of his HEV.

Kane gripped the handlebars and gulped. This would be his first official combat drop, after barely just 1 year of ad hoc training. Given that humanity was desperately fighting a losing war just a few months ago, preparations were usually sketchy. Survival came down to a swift reflex, and a healthy dose of luck. And seeing that ODST troops had one of the highest mortality rates in the entire Human-Covenant wars...well...Kane tried hard to forget that as his HEV began to shudder.

The drop indicator flashed to a green, emanating a 'ping' as it changed, and Kane was off. The thrusters roared. With a shudder that reverberated throughout the entire HEV, the pod was pushed away from the mother-ship and towards the cold, hard earth beneath.

Kane felt as if the weight of the entire pod was boring down upon him for a moment, as the HEV accelerated violently unimpeded through the pallid skies. The ODST grinded his teeth as the G-Force acting upon him took its toll. Gradually, the weight Kane felt subsided as the HEV began stabilising its speed. However, he could feel a deliberate climb in temperature as the pod continued its descent. Kane had been told that this was considered normal; the HEV was bound to heat up once the ceramic skin that encased the vehicle was burned away during re-entry. Not that _that _stopped him from squirming though.

Kane glanced through the window placed just directly in front of him. The window was beginning to glow a crimson red around its edges with every decline in altitude. Initially, snowy clouds obscured his view of the world outside. But as the HEV fell to a little over 4000 feet, the clouds dispersed; and gave way to a panoramic view of Tiranus's raw beauty.

The planet resembled something right out of a Christmas e-card, Kane observed. Conical trees which resembled the coniferous ones found on his native earth dotted the chalky snow. Rugged mountains bordered the horizon, complimenting the scenic panorama. In short, Tiranus was a perfect tableau of the Swizz Alps.

But still, Kane could tell this was no holiday; there was to be a fight. Solemn lines of blackened smoke rose from the ground, bearing testament that something was amiss.

"_**You lot will be landing in approximately 10 seconds. I have already made landfall and contact with the enemy. Good luck troopers, God be with you,**_" came the gruff voice of his commander over the intercom. The private could hear the staccato of gunfire from over the transmission. The fight was getting hot.

Kane tightened his grip on the handlebars and muttered to himself the countdown.

_ 10...9...8..._

The ground seemed so much closer than before...they were now nearing the enemy base they had been briefed about.

_7...6...5...4..._

Kane could discern the camp much more closely now. Most of the tents that were present in the base were white or greyish in colour, contributing to its camouflage. Here and there, what appeared to be barracks had been built in neat rows just north of those tents. And...there were black specks that were taking cover behind those tents...

_3...2..._

Crap! Those dots were firing upon his pod! Kane could hear a sizzle as a bolt of blue plasma strike the base of his pod...Bright flashes of white and blue filled his vision...

_...1..._

A powerful shudder vibrated through the length of his pod as the HEV smashed into a tent. Splintered metal poles and torn canvas obstructed the view through the pod's window as the HEV collided into the unfortunate tent head-on. A whistle rang shrilly in the pod, and then the hatch flew off.

Kane leapt out of the HEV and straight into the fray. As he tumbled out of the wreckage of the tent, a group of 2 grunts waddled up to him, firing their needlers. Pink strips of plasma peppered the snow around his feet, barely missing him.

Kane was a step quicker, ducking behind the remnants of a stack of cargo boxes. With a burst of fire from his M7S submachine gun, the duo went down in a spray of bullets.

A cackle of static played across his helmet comm. headset. "_**This is your Captain speaking! Engage these tangos and sweep the area clean. Meet at the rallying point once that's done! Over and out!**_"

Kane peered out from behind the boxes. He could spy upon yet another group of grunts engaging a HEV a little further down the encampment, at about 100 meters away. Kane hurriedly clambered back into his pod and stripped the HEV of extra pouches of ammunition, medical supply, and most importantly; its SRS99D-S2AM sniper rifle.

He crawled back to the cover of the boxes and got out his sniper rifle. Peering into its scope, he trained his sights upon a pair of grunts that were still firing at the other ODST that landed. With a pull of the trigger, the powerful depleted Uranium alloy round erupted from the nuzzle of the gun; and sliced through the stout bodies of the 2 grunts.

Before the other grunts could react, Kane had fired yet again. This time, the round blew out the brains of yet another grunt, showering its partner in a spray of gore.

That unnerved the remainder of the group. With squeals of terror, they fled. Meanwhile, the ODST that had been sheltering behind his HEV climbed out, firing his rifle at the retreating lot.

"Hey Tim, is that you? Check your radar, I'm the guy who landed right at your rear," said Kane into his headset.

"Yeah I see you. Thanks for the assist!" replied his comrade.

Kane grinned and hurried down the encampment, dodging from tent to tent for cover. As his training had taught him, he checked the interiors of each tent, all the while remaining on the alert for enemies. After a few minutes, he arrived downhill, where Tim was waiting.

"Our mini-map says the other squads landed a little further north, up this slope. Looks like we were a little off-course." Timothy said

"A little? We're half a damn click away from where we were supposed to land!" Kane groaned.

"Well, could have been worse. At least we didn't crash land. Anyway let's head to the main base. We have an objective to capture,"

"Yeah...and we also better take cover in those shrubs when we approach that area. There's a watch-tower over there...and I'll bet anything the Covenant loaded that tower with snipers and machine gunners on the rooftop." Kane replied apprehensively.

"Agreed. You take point, I'll cover you," said Timothy.

The pair half jogged, half sprinted towards the slope. Upon arriving at its base, they decided to stick to crawling up that hill via where there were patches of snowy shrub. A few trees planted along that hill would also serve as additional cover.

In a crouched position, they clambered up the slope, stealthily sticking to the bushes. As the neared the ridgeline, they paused.

Kane lay prone upon the icy ground and prepared his sniper rifle into a firing position. From where he was, he could observe the presence of a substantial number of enemies. Several packs of brutes were already in engagement with the ODSTs from Bravo, Delta, and his squad; or at least that was what his HUD mini-map revealed. Bolstering this Covenant garrison were a few more small groups of grunts and a worst of all; a Brute Prowler.

The vehicle was raining down a hail of plasma upon the rest of the ODST troops, keeping them pinned to the ruined building which they were taking cover in. Kane could also discern a trail of smoke in the sky which led to burning barrack somewhere in the distance. That meant one of the HEV had been shot down before it could even make landfall.

And Kane found the culprit behind the downed HEV; a pair of Anti-Air Wraiths that were parked behind the watch tower. Unfortunately, they were also out of the line of sight of the main squad and tucked away quite a ways back, denying the ODSTs any chance of taking it out.

The pair of Anti-Air vehicles was far from silent; rather, they were busily firing into the skies its fuel rod cannons. Kane looked up and saw yet another wave of HEVs descending down to the Earth. Clearly, until those Wraiths were taken care of, any further orbital drops would be risky. However, any attempts to bring in Pelicans or heavier ships would be suicidal. And that was what their mission was all about; taking out the anti-air artillery so that the Pelicans could bring in the Marines to retake the planet.

"...Hello? Is anyone there? This is Captain Macmillan of Bravo squad! We are currently under heavy fire in Sectors 2-5! Any other squads out there free to assist? Over!" Kane's intercom cackled.

Tim must have received the message too, for he turned to look at Kane.

"That's them right there, Macmillan's men! They must be the ones in that ruined building! But what the hell do we do? Only our CO was given any tank equipment...and according to my map, he's a click west of here, too far away to do anything."

Kane realised unhappily that he was right. They were practically useless when up against armour.

"But yet..." said Kane, as he looked at his sniper rifle, "Those Brutes in that Prowler aren't exactly well concealed. A well placed shot could take care of them."

"You sure?" asked Tim hesitantly, "Because if you aren't fast enough, and if that thing gets a lock on our position, this ridgeline will be our graves."

Kane huddled down into the snow and unfolded the bipods on the sniper rifle.

"I'm sure," he replied.

With a deep breath, the ODST peered though his sniper scope; eyebrows furrowed into a tight bunch. The driver of the Prowler, who was seated at the back of the vehicle, was dead centre in his sights. Better still, the Prowler was currently stationary. The Brutes who were manning the turrets were busily firing away; so far, they had failed to notice the 2 soldiers quietly hiding amongst the bushes.

Kane squeezed the trigger.

The sniper rifle jerked back violently upon fire, the force of the recoil pressed hard against Kane's shoulder. However, his aim was true. The Brute that had been commandeering the vehicle barely had time to howl in pain before most of his torso was blown into tiny fragments. The snow around the Prowler was soon splattered with the sanguine vitae of blood; and with whatever that was left of the Brute.

As Kane reloaded his rifle, the other 2 Brutes that were also in the Prowler spotted the duo. One of them attempted to clamber into the driver's cockpit while the other swivelled the massive plasma turret to face them.

In that few seconds, it seemed that time has stalled to a snail crawl. The survival of either Kane or the Brute depended on who could take the first shot. Through his sniper scope, Kane could see the Brute was just about to pull the trigger on him. Luckily for him, he was just a fraction of a second faster. With a squeeze of the trigger and a resolute "crack", the bullet careened straight into the chest of the Brute and splattered his innards on the gunner's seat.

The other Brute; now in the driver's seat, was hastily making a getaway. The Prowler had been revved up and was reversing to the safety of the tree-line.

"Hey Tim, check out this shot," smirked Kane as he took aim at the escaping Prowler.

The private swiftly removed the empty cartridge and replaced it with a full one. He cocked the rifle and once again, peered intently through his scope, his index finger lightly touching the trigger. And just before the Prowler could slip into the cover of the trees, Kane took shot.

The unfortunate Brute had his head blown clean off. He was dead before he even tumbled to the side, upon the snowy ground.

"Boom, headshot!" chuckled Kane darkly. Tim looked visibly impressed.

"Alright, you proved your point. Never mess with a sniper," laughed Tim, "Now let's get to that Prowler; I have an idea how to take care of that pesky watch-tower."

"What? You know how to drive that thing?" queried Kane.

"You could say that," replied Tim, "Anyway, we'll both get into the driver seat; we will need to take cover from the watch tower."

With that, the duo emerged from their hiding spot and sprinted towards the unmanned Prowler. Already, several grunts had noticed them and had begun firing.

Kane and Tim clambered into the driver seat hurriedly, narrowly dodging the pink needler shots that were peppering the ground around them. Tim started the engine. With a silent whirl, the vehicle came alive; and Tim manoeuvred the metallic beast to face _the watch tower. _

"Wait a minute...you can't be serious!" protested Kane.

"Too late," replied Tim, "Just remember to jump out and find cover in that ditch once we've made contact!"

With a violent jerk on the controller, the Prowler accelerated at full speed and made a headlong dash straight for the tower. By then, the garrison at the tower has realised what was afoot and began wildly firing upon the vehicle...but to no avail. The Prowler needed more than a needler gun to bring it down.

The vehicle thundered along at close to 50 miles per hour. Finally, just before the Prowler collided with the watch tower, the two men leapt out of the driver seat and tumbled into the soft snow.

With a jarring crunch, the fighting machine smashed straight into the tower. A forceful reverberation shuddered along the entire length of the building. The Prowler meanwhile, began emanating a trail of dark smoke. Initially, the tower looked as if it would hold, despite having been tilted to an angle.

"Into that damned ditch! The f-king thing is gonna fall!" cried Kane as he scurried away for safety. Tim followed closely behind.

And then, a series of "snaps" rang out shrilly through the cold air. The tower began fracturing in the centre, as evident by a massive crack snaking its way through the middle of the building. The upper portion broke free from the main body of the tower and tumbled; right on top of the anti-air wraith. The unfortunate vehicle and its occupant, having been slow to react, were crushed under its weight.

Better yet, the anti-air wraith had a self-destruct device that was triggered with the death of the driver. Blue jets of plasma flame burst forth from the interiors of the wraith and unluckily for the Covenant forces, a cache of fuel rod ammunition had been carelessly left at the side of the wraith.

The results were spectacular. With a roar, the cache exploded into a rapidly expanding fireball of cerulean blue. Whatever that was left of the tower was also taken together with it and blown to kingdom come. Here and there, boxes stocked with ammunition that had been stored inside the tower caught fire and exploded, getting catapulted into the air with shrill whistles and pop; not unlike a fire-cracker. And whoever that was in the vicinity would be incinerated in this melee of flames and plasma.

Tim and Kane meanwhile, had ducked into the cover of a nearby ditch. Kane could hear the thunderous roar of the explosion somewhere above his head and the smell of burnt rubble and corpses wafted into his nose. The air around him seemed to be on fire. But all 2 ODST troops could do was to press themselves closer to the ground and pray.

As the heat died away, Kane slowly lifted his head; his submachine gun at the ready. A thick smoke draped the landscape in a cover of dust and soot...but Kane could make out the ruined stub of the watch tower. The spot where the wraith once occupied was now empty. Not a soul stirred in this desolate wasteland.

Suddenly, a cackle of static drifted through his communication headset.

_"Macmillan here...Is anyone out there? Repeat is anyone o.... Hostiles taken out...survivors appear to have fled....._"

"Hey man," said Kane, "You alright?"

"Yeah...just have this ringing in my ears..."

"_Signal interference heavy...switching to alternative channels...."_

"Are they all dead?" asked Tim, his eyes scanning their bleak surroundings.

"The enemies are at least, so that would be a yes," replied Kane, "We should re-group with Bravo squad...they were holed up in that ruined building west of here..."

_"...Repeat, area has been cleared and zone secured....hostiles are KIA or have fled.... ...Clear to bring in reinforcements..."_

_ "_Well Tim, that was a crazy as hell idea...and it worked! This gets you a medal of honour at the very least," smiled Kane.

"I don't care much for that. What matters is; we're alive" replied Tim, "A bloody miracle if you ask me."

_"This is Command speaking, report your status, over." _A crisp voice cackled over their headsets.

_ "Anti-air site Bravo cleared Sir!" _piped in Macmillan's voice

_"Anti-Air site Charlie cleared!"_ added their commander, Captain Lee.

_ "Landing strip secured!"_

_ "Good work men, all of you," _replied Command, _"Hold the designated areas until the Pelicans arrive. Over and out."_

**UNSC Calendar May 27****th**** 2200 Hours, Tiranus II**

Kane's head drooped over his chest sleepily; his eyes half open and half shut. His head swayed in sync to the every turn the weather-worn Warthog made. The jeep churned a trail of snow and dirt in its wake as it rumbled along the barely existent forest road. Following behind closely was a convoy of military trucks; and a Scorpion tank. Protecting their flanks were a few more Warthogs and a pair of MAAT-9 Wolverines; just in case the convoy had the misfortune of getting spotted by raiding Covenant Ghost gunships.

Save for the monotonous rumble of the Warthog's engine, all was silent and deadly quiet. The coniferous trees which grew in great troves along the path did not even make as much as a rustle of a leave; or a creak of a branch. Permeating through the silence occasionally was the distant scream of a Longsword or Broadsword fighter....and if one listened carefully, you could almost hear the chatter of gunfire and the wail of plasma fire echoing across the night.

The leading Warthog's headlights did little to light the way. It was as if the darkness itself swallowed up anything that dared to chance across its wake.

"Hey, don't fall asleep. Get up," hissed Tim in an undertone. "We're nearly there...and something's wrong."

"Huh?" murmured the private as he hastily rubbed his eyes and propped his submachine gun up, "Why? What's wrong?"

"The supply depot which we were supposed to reinforce isn't responding to any of our calls; that's what's wrong" growled Captain Lee, their squad commander. "And you're getting latrine duty if I catch you falling asleep while on mission again."

"Sorry Sir, won't happen again," replied Kane; shamefaced.

Lee nodded and went back to tinkering with his comm. headset.

"This is Captain Lee from Echo squad, requesting surveillance feed of supply depot Alpha slash seven. They are offline and unresponsive to all comm. signals; I repeat, they are unresponsive to all comm. signals."

Kane could discern the cackle of static and the voice of someone chattering on the captain's headset.

The captain frowned as he heard the reply on the headset. "Yes...Uh huh. Yes Sir. Understood."

Kane caught glimpse of something flickering across the HUD of their captain's headset. Accompanying that was the sound of chatter emanating from his comm. gear once more.

"...Yes Sir. Orders received. Over and out," finished Lee as he reached for the switch that would end the transmission.

"All right men, we've got a problem. I've just got word from HQ that a couple of Covenant stragglers have just attacked the supply depot we were heading to. And enemy numbers are substantial; I repeat: _substantial._ Expect a heavy fight."

"Typical," snorted Timothy, "When have their numbers been _unsubstantial?_"

Kane had to admit that his friend had made a good point.

Lee went on. "Also, enemy air support has been spotted in the area. Looks like some of the bastards slipped by our air cover. But whatever it is, our fighters will be aiding us in the re-capture of the depot."

Through his comm. headset, Kane heard the cheers of the other ODSTs in his squad. He sighed and loaded a fresh clip into his weapon. There never really was a dull moment.

**Covenant Calendar: Age of Redemption (May 27****th****) 2200 Hours, Aboard the Covenant Flagship 'Transient Watcher'**

_Things were going to plan at least._ That was something the Prophet could take solace in.

The high Prophet paced the length of his spacious study upon hid hover-chair. Every minute or so, he would frown and glance at the situation map that had been projected (in holographic form of course) upon the wall. He rubbed his bony fingers anxiously and then resumed the same routine.

The Prophet was worried. For the first few days or so, the excavation had progressed without a hitch. Oh, the appearance of the Cornerian counter-attack was worrying at first. But when his fleet repelled the feeble attempt easily, he relaxed once more. The ground forces on Shya'Dan (Or which the Lylatians had christened Tiranus II) had met substantial resistance. But without air cover, those forces were doomed. Better yet, they had captured several high ranking generals and officers who had been very cooperative in providing intel. One of them even provided the codes for their military communication channels and archives.

And then, the humans showed up...which almost ruined everything. It was only by a god sent miracle that the last of the relics had been dug out in the nick of time and shipped hastily back to their fleet. Had the humans captured those ships laden with the relics and had an inkling of what he was planning to do...

The doors to his study slid open and a Brute strode in hurriedly. It was Macaerbus.

"Holy one! With permission to speak!" grunted the Brute as he bowed. The Prophet nodded.

"Holy one...Our excavation of the relics has run into problems...The last transport ship is still on Shya'Dan, and the humans have attacked the route back to the fleet in huge numbers."

The Prophet swore under his breath. The hitch had presented itself at last.

"Counter attack then. Need I remind you the importance of ensuring that those heathens never capture those relics intact? Failure to do so compromises _everything_."

"We have already re-routed several squadrons to re-take the route Holy one," replied Macaerbus, "But the problem is, the humans have sent ground forces to the site...it appears that they seem rather intent on taking it back."

"Taking it back?" asked the Prophet. A flash of anger flickered across his crimson irises.

"Yes Holy one, taking it back. A temporary supply depot had been built by the humans on the ground where the relic lay buried. We were forced to attack it so that we could excavate the relics...and now the humans want the depot back."

The Brute paused, examining the High Prophet with a nervous eye. And then, for good measure; he added, "But of course, our counter-attack will reopen the escape route for that ship. Rest assured we will get those relics in time and the hea— "

"Oh, the humans had better not capture those relics...because if they do, heads will roll Macaerbus, heads will _roll._ I certainly hope you won't find yourself on the receiving end should that happen," the Prophet said coldly, the back of his chair turned to the Brute. "Do everything in your power to ensure that the relics make it back to the fleet in one piece. You are dismissed."

Macaerbus opened his mouth, as if he was about to say something. But then, he thought better of it and remained silent.

"...Well, if you excuse me Holy one, I will head back to my post," the Brute replied quietly. He turned around and hastily made his way out of the Prophet's study.

The High Prophet scowled.

"_Oikonny better had more luck in his quest to lure Krystal to Sauria," _he thought vengefully to himself. Once more, he fixated his gaze onto the map. _"Somewhere in this galaxy..." _the Prophet pondered, "_Is where the Halo Control lies...somewhere...And Krystal will help me find it" _


	9. An unexpected find

**UNSC Calendar May 28****th**** 0016 Hours, Tiranus II**

Kane could feel the crunch of his boots upon the icy ground. With each step, powdery snow and dirt were thrown up in the air behind him. Each breath he took sent spasms of jagged pain running down his lungs; but yet he ran.

Behind him, he could discern the distant hiss and boom of artillery and tank turret fire. Adding to the cacophony of war were the cries of the wounded; humans and Covenant alike, and the staccato of gunfire. Visibility was also dreadful, given that his night vision goggles did little to filter out the sporadic blinding flashes of plasma that rained down near him. But yet, Kane ran into the fray.

A burst of gunfire from an automated plasma turret however, finally forced him to stop and drop down to the ground. He huddled down in a small crater (caused by artillery no doubt) and took stock of his bearings.

"_Alright squad! Our diversion is over! They'll now be shifting the main weight of their defence against us! Put up covering fire so that our main force can advance from the flanks!"_ the gruff voice of captain Lee cackled out from his comm. headset.

Kane glanced around, taking in his surroundings.

His squad was largely dispersed all over the place, given the general chaos of the fight. Save for a corporal whom he recognised as also a squad mate of his, the rest were nowhere to be seen; including Timothy. The corporal meanwhile, was bunkered down in a crater a couple of feet away from his, doing his best to shelter from the murderous fire of plasma.

Kane hoisted his sniper rifle up and took a few crack shots at the depot which they were suppose to retake before ducking down again and reloading. Whatever it was, he wasn't going to be able to do much damage until the rest of their armoured units and air support showed up.

"Yo Caudwell!" he hollered out at the corporal, "When did the captain say those flyboys were going to show up?"

"Beats me!" answered the corporal, "But they had better turn up; or we sure as hell ain't gonna capture that depot!"

The two soldiers were forced to cut short their conversation as the Covenant began firing upon their positions again. When the gunfire let up however, Kane returned the favour with a well aimed shot that took out a grunt that had been hiding behind a Ferro-concrete wall.

Just then, Lee's voice drifted through his headset. "_The scorpion tanks are_ _here men! Get behind them for cover and advance to the depot. Good luck!"_

Kane swung his head around. Though the tanks were indistinct through night vision, the rumble of their engines and the crush of ice upon threads were unmistakable. He felt heartened by the sound.

Lee roared into the headset, "_Let's get those bastards! FEET FIRST INTO HELL!" _The rest of the squad chorused the now immortalised ODST motto into their headsets. Kane cheered along too.

As one of the scorpion tanks rumbled along beside him, Kane hastily got up and half crouched, half walked behind the armoured vehicle. Caudwell followed suit.

Kane winced as the tank fired its 90mm high velocity cannon at the depot. The thunderous roar of its cannon reverberated in Kane's eardrums. In a synchronised fashion, the private could hear the cannonade of the other tanks firing their main armaments.

As he peered at the unfortunate supply depot, he could tell it had taken a beating. Gunfire coming from it was now noticeably less. A fire had also broken out from somewhere within the base; the flames glowing eerily against the raven skies.

Suddenly, something loud rumbled from overhead; up in the pitch black skies. Kane looked up, wondering with a dread if somehow the Covenant fleet had broken through their fighter cover. But as the roar grew louder...

"The Longswords! They're here!" whooped Caudwell.

As Kane glanced upwards, he heard the unmistakable swoosh of the interceptors cruising by overhead. A minute later, the ground trembled.

And Kane could tell why. The supply depot momentarily disappeared into a conflagration of fire and smoke; all thanks to a generous payload delivered by the Longswords. The resulting series of explosions filled the chilly air; together with the cheers of the ODSTs and marines.

"No way in hell anything could survive that carpet bombing!" said Caudwell happily. Kane was inclined to agree.

The pace picked up. The tank increased its speed and Kane was now practically jogging beside it. All the while, Kane could hear the tanks maintaining their fire upon the Covenant.

Suddenly, a glowing orb of green light filled the hair, followed by a hiss. Before the ODST knew it, he was thrown onto the ground, knocked by the sheer force of the blast. A tank that had been travelling beside his one had been blown to bits; together with its occupants. A soldier who had been following too close to it now lay dying upon the snow, his guts spilling out onto the ground from an open abdomen wound. A pool of crimson red quickly began accumulating around the fallen man. His desperate cries however, prompted Kane to dash over to help.

"Forget it! He's gone!" yelled Caudwell as he pulled Kane by the collar of his vest back towards their tank, "And looks like I was wrong; we will be expecting company after all,"

The private nodded shakily and hurried back behind the armoured vehicle. The wretched cry of the wounded soldier nevertheless, rang shrilly in his ears.

The tanks were now converging upon the depot on all sides (as visible through the mini-map in Kane's HUD). Though numerous tanks had been taken out by Covenant fire, most of the scorpions reached their objective.

Without pause, Kane sprinted to the back of a container building for cover. Corporal Caudwell followed closely behind. The scorpion tank continued its advance into the depot; while a group of marines scrambled behind it for cover as they fought their way into the base.

Kane panted slightly as he stopped behind the cover of the building to catch his breath. The last hour had been the closest thing to a walk through hell. Sharp burst of mist puffed out from his mouth with every gasp, as he gulped in the cold air.

Meanwhile, the scorpion tank halted in its tracks. Before it was the ruined remnants of the Ferro-concrete wall; and whatever that was left of the depot. The main road which ran through the installation had been cratered and heavily pockmarked; all thanks to the intense bombing runs it had been a victim from. Along the sides of the road were a few concrete buildings and watch-towers; all having too suffered a similar fate.

The tank fired a shell at a building on the opposite end of the road. The round tore through the walls with ease and a resolute "boom" rang shrilly as the shell made contact with whatever that was inside. Kane half-expected the Covenant to return fire...but instead, there was silence. The tank continued its advance into the seemingly abandoned depot.

"I got a bad feeling about this," muttered Caudwell as he jogged behind the tank. Kane murmured his agreement. His eyes nervously scanned the windows of the buildings which flanked the main road. If experience had taught him anything; urban areas were the perfect spots for an ambush.

"Hey, check your HUD, we have company," said Caudwell.

Kane noted that a group of friendlies were approaching from a side-alley from across the street. As he swung his head up, he grinned.

"Nice to see you aren't in a body bag yet Tim," said Kane. Emerging from the alley-way together with a rag-tag group of marines and ODSTs was Timothy.

"Same to you too," Tim called back as he and the rest of his men hunkered down behind a half destroyed wall on the other side of the road, "I was wondering if any of us would make it out of there alive,"

One of the men called out, "Anyway, who's in charge here? Our CO got lost somewhere during the fight."

Kane pointed to corporal Caudwell. "Well, seeing that he's about the highest ranking guy in this whole unit..."

Caudwell did a mock salute. "And as our new CO, I say we cut the chatter and keep walking."

Bolstered with unexpected reinforcements, the squad continued its slow pace of advance alongside the scorpion tank. Overhead, the roar of Longsword fighters could be discerned; accompanying the clamour of artillery and gunfire ringing out from somewhere in the distance. Kane had recalled from his mission briefing that the main attack would come via the form of an armoured thrust from the north. The job of his battalion however, was merely to provide a form of diversion for the Covenant and to prevent any breakout attempt from the encircled depot. Already, their fighters had established (hopefully permanent) air superiority over the area, dooming any hopes of the Covenant relieving their surrounded garrison.

The Covenant garrison however, was far from defeated. Without warning, from the rooftop of a barrack on the far side of the road, a Hunter emerged; a fuel rod gun mounted on his shoulder. A plasma turret that had been hidden behind a carefully concealed window fired onto the oncoming troops while at the same time, sporadic groups of grunts emerged as if from thin air and began firing from the windows.

"Damn it! Get to cover at the side!" roared Caudwell as he leapt out from behind the tank and into an alley tucked in between 2 container blocks. Kane didn't need telling twice; he followed suit. Timothy however, scrambled off to the other side of the road.

The Hunter fired his massive gun, releasing a beam of emerald green from its tip that careened right into the exposed scorpion tank. In an instant, the tank was no more. Its turret was blown straight clear from its body; while ammunition stored in the vehicle began popping as the engulfing fire ravaged it.

A marine who had been a second too slow to react was killed on the spot as the metal shrapnel from the resulting explosion tore through his body; ripping his torso into half. Another man was mowed down by the hail of plasma from the turret.

Thankfully, most of the other troops had gotten to cover. And those who had wasted no time in returning fire.

"Try to snipe that god damned hunter," yelled the corporal over the din over gunfire, "I'll try to get us some air support!"

Kane nodded and propped his sniper rifle up against a wrecked wall. With a keen eye, he spotted the wretched creature half hidden behind a low wall on the top floor of the barrack. A burning pile of crates that was located close to him illuminated the Hunter with a hue of faded orange. With a mechanical intake of breath and a squeeze of the trigger, the depleted Uranium alloy round rocketed off from the chamber of the rifle... and struck home into the exposed back of the unlucky Hunter. With a low-pitch scream, the creature tumbled over the low wall and fell to his certain death 5 floors below. Kane could hear a resounding "crunch" as the Hunter made contact with the Earth.

"Got him," said Kane as he ducked down once more. The plasma turret; having noted the presence of the sniper, had readjusted its target onto where Kane was.

"Fine work private!" grinned Caudwell, "And good news: HQ has agreed to re-route a Pelican to assist us. That should take care of the turret at least."

The ODST hoped he was right. Kane pressed himself to the ground as the hail of plasma raining down upon his position picked up in intensity. At any rate, they were pinned down good and proper unless air support showed up.

The unmistakable whirl of the Pelicans thrusters echoed from the skies above. Though the night sky veiled the vehicle from the naked eye, Kane could definitely tell the Pelican was hovering somewhere above them.

_ "This is Bravo-Five, we are in the vicinity to assist. Just tell us where to fire and we'll do the rest, over," _the pilot's voice cackled over the corporal's headset.

"Bravo-Five, try to knock out that plasma turret on fourth floor of the building directly ahead of us." Caudwell replied, "And the hostiles of the rooftop as well."

"_Roger. Lighting em up,"_

A pair of "whooshes" rang out; one after the other from somewhere above Kane's head. As Kane glanced from behind his cover, the two air to surface missiles collided right into the building where the turret was mounted in.

Within seconds, a massive fireball erupted from the barracks. Tendrils of flames stretched into the heavens above; licking the skies momentarily before subsiding. The resulting explosion sent a wave of heat pouring out in a radius where the missiles had made contact. Kane instinctively shielded his face from harm.

As the initial salvo died down, smoke billowed out of the gaping hole in the barrack where the turret had been. Debris rained down upon the squad.

"Bravo-Five, I see a couple of grunts still alive on the lower floors," coughed Caudwell over the smoke as he issued new orders into his headset.

The Pelican fired a burst of it rotary cannon into whatever that was left of the building. A series of terrified squeals and grunts indicated the bullets had found their targets.

"Right, let's keep moving," said Caudwell as he got up, "Faster we get to our objectives; the better."

As the squad advanced, Covenant resistance grew more and more sporadic. Most of the defenders were dead, while those remaining fought on with fanatical desperation. Kane couldn't help but wonder what prompted them to do so.

"We're closing in onto the airfield," Caudwell said aloud to the rest of the squad, "Keep your heads down and stay close to the nearest scorpion tank you see! There ain't much cover out there; so those tanks are all we got."

"Hope those tanks out there don't end up like our buddy back there" muttered Tim as he pointed back at the gutted scorpion. A healthy fire still burned cheerfully from within the scorched husk of the armoured vehicle. Kane gave an involuntary shudder. It was dangerous work being in a tank...not that being an ODST was much better.

As the troops cautiously emerged through the remains of a half blown warehouse, they at last reached their objective: the airfield.

* * *

Kane glanced at the forlorn landscape. It was a mosaic of destroyed vehicles, bomb craters; or more often than not, corpses. A few Covenant transport ships still remained on the airstrip, but the great majority lay burning where it was parked; the handiwork of Pelicans no doubt. In the horizon, Kane could discern the occasional flash of tank fire or Covenant plasma drifting through his night vision. By all counts, the plan appeared to be working. The armoured attack of the Covenant flank had drawn most of their forces away from the vital airfield and the bivouac which Kane and thousands of other UNSC troops had now captured.

Suddenly, a blinding flash filled the night sky...which was amplified by the helmet's night vision. Kane winced and clenched his eyelids shut as the fiery glare streaked across the airstrip. A second later, a resounding "boom" thundered on his ear drums. As Kane opened his eyes; a great portion of the airfield now lay shrouded in flames.

Tim gave a low whistle. "Probably by one of our fly-boys. _Damn... _Covenant sure caught it hard down there."

Caudwell nodded. "All the better for us. Let's keep it moving. And we should probably split into smaller groups and head behind a scorpion."

Without word, the platoon split itself into smaller squads of 3 men each. Tim, Kane and Caudwell formed a squad. Likewise, the rest of the men did the same.

A scorpion tank crashed through a concrete wall somewhere to the platoon's right. From all sides, more armoured vehicles were beginning to pour out of the wrecked streets of the military base and onto the airfield. Taking the signal, Caudwell hurried over to the nearest tank. Kane and Tim followed closely in his wake.

Just then, the familiar voice of Captain Lee buzzed through their headsets.

"_Fresh orders from HQ to all units approaching the airfield. We have been told to NOT engage any Covenant transports attempting to take off. We are to capture them intact if possible, together with all its contents. Our fly-boys have also been told to lay off the airfield for a while, so don't expect air support for the moment!" _

"The hell?" said Kane. "So what are we supposed to do then? Ask the Covenant nicely if they wanna give us their guns and wave the white flag?"

The corporal didn't like those orders too. "Well, it's insane...but we don't have a choice. Whatever it is the brass wants, it has to be important. It _better _be important..." replied Caudwell.

True to Lee's words, the Pelican that had been escorting them flew off, together with the other support choppers. Kane felt vulnerable without them.

As the trio half-crouched, half jogged behind the advancing tank; Covenant fire opened up on them. Plasma peppered the front of the scorpion while from somewhere in the distance, a rocket careened into the ground beside their armoured escort, closely missing it. Kane made a mental note that the Covenant had to be running very low on supplies to have to resort to using captured human weaponry.

The tank fired (Kane winced as it did) into the general direction where the gunfire emerged from. Tim also released a spray of bullets to force the enemy to keep its head down.

Caudwell tapped on Kane's back. "I've an idea. I'll make a dash to that bomb crater over there. When I draw their fire towards me, you take em out with your sniper rifle. Understood?"

"You're f-king crazy" replied Kane. Then, he hurriedly added in "Sir."

Caudwell smirked. "Here goes."

The corporal sprinted madly towards the crater in question. As he did that, the Covenant forces entrenched in the crater on the airfield fired wildly at Caudwell. Without hesitation, Kane fired at the Hunter which had unwisely chose to poke its head out of the safety of the crater.

Even as the hunter's head exploded in a cloud of red mist, Kane had already locked onto the next target and fired. The second hunter went down as quickly as the first.

By then, the Kig-yar (or jackal) sheltering in the other crater had noticed Kane. He fired a short burst from its plasma pistol. Kane ducked back behind the cover of the scorpion as the shots peppered the snow at his feet.

Unfortunately for the jackal, the scorpion spotted him. The tank fired off a shell at the crater, obliterating it in a cloud of dirt and snow. As Kane peered around, the jackal was gone. All that was left was a bigger crater.

"You were damned lucky," smiled Kane as Caudwell re-emerged at his side.

Caudwell shrugged. "All in a day's work."

As the trio continued their advance through the battered airfield, something in the distance hovered off the ground.

Kane unpacked his sniper rifle and squinted through the electronic scope.

"Aww crap..." he moaned.

"What is it Kane?" asked Tim as he glanced at the object; and then realisation hit him.

"One of the Covenant transport is escaping!"

"Why aren't our fighters attacking it?" Kane gritted through his teeth in frustration as he continued looking through the scope, "The thing is practically a sitting duck without air support!"

"We can't" replied Caudwell helplessly, "Like Lee said: HQ wants all Covenant transports in one piece. A missile would probably destroy whatever that thing's holding."

The transport began gaining altitude. Kane gripped his sniper rifle and peered eagerly through his scope. The transport was dead in his sights. If only...

**Covenant Calendar: Age of Redemption (May 28****th****) 0100 Hours, Above checkpoint Shull'lya**

Never before had Jyla Tarunmee felt such a great and overpowering sense of panic. In all his years of loyal servitude to the Covenant; from Reach to the attempted attack on Earth, he had never been entrusted to a mission as important as this.

The _Madrik _class transport was moving far too slowly; he grimaced angrily to himself. No doubt the grunts had not a proper job servicing the vehicle. _The lazy, incompetent fools..._

But now was not the time to dwell on such thoughts. The Sangheili had to deliver the artefacts in the transport to the safety of the _Transient Watcher_... or die trying. Whatever it was however, he had been instructed that the Foreunner artefacts onboard were _not _to fall into human hands. Should the humans somehow find a way to take down the flimsy transport without utterly destroying it...Jyla glanced down at the plasma grenades attached to his armour.

_Martyrdom would be desirable..._thought Jyla, _if it was what it took to clear up the tarnished name of my race. And perhaps upon my death, my loyalty will prove me worthy of The Journey..._

Ever since Arbiter had betrayed the Covenant empire...well, the remaining loyalist Sangheili had sunk in status. Even the Unggoy had a better name these days. But for the sake of his mortal soul however, Jyla had thrown in his lot with the Covenant loyalists.

The transport was gaining in altitude slowly but surely. Jyla urged the controls onwards. If only he could just get to Covenant controlled space above...

Without warning, the windshield at his side buckled inwards with a sharp "crack". Jyla suddenly felt as if a war-hammer had been brought down upon his chest.

The ever present wind on Shya'Dan billowed loudly in the cockpit through the gaping hole in the windshield. Drifts of snow and ice also gushed in through the open wound in the ship, complementing the cacophony of the wind.

As Jyla focused on his chest, he duly noted that a crimson red blotch was rapidly soaking his armour and vest. In a daze, he further noted that the ship was fast losing altitude.

With a gasp, a crippling pain woke him out of his stupor and reminded him that by some small, random chance; he had been shot. Jyla clutched his wound with one hand and attempted to steer the ship upwards once more. But he was fighting a losing battle. His vital fluids were spilling out of his chest and onto the cockpit floor in frightening amounts. The sanguine liquid bubbled at his mouth as he made an attempt to breathe deeply. His lungs were hurting him dearly for every breath. His mind was slipping into unconsciousness. His motor functions were failing...

The last glimpse the doomed Sangheili warrior had of the waking world was the blinking lights of the cockpit controls. And then, his eyelids slid shut.

**UNSC Calendar May 28****th**** 0103 Hours, Tiranus II**

"I'll say it again Kane; I'm sure as hell glad you're on our side," remarked Tim in open eyed admiration as the ODSTs and marines converged upon the Covenant transport crash site. Behind them, scorpion tanks and an assortment of armoured carriers backed them up.

"And I'll say it again; it was a pure fluke," replied Kane in exasperation, "I didn't actually think I could have shot that thing down with a bullet. Besides, maybe it was something else..."

"Oh yeah, the pilot could have shot himself..."

"Private Kane Simons!" came a gruff but yet familiar voice. Kane looked around in alarm.

It was none other than Captain Lee himself, riding shotgun in a Warthog. The jeep screeched to a halt beside the troops and the captain leapt off.

"I've got to say _corporal _Simons; you did a damned fine work out there. The ODSTs are lucky to have you onboard," Lee addressed Kane. He went on, a wolfish grin on his face, "And I'll see if I can get you a shiny medal to go with your promotion."

Tim thumped Kane on the back. "Well done man!" The other men did the same, praising and congratulating Kane in one way or another. Kane did his best to look humble.

"Alright, time to get what we need and get the hell outta here. Where's the demo man? We need the transport door open!" barked Lee. One of the marines hurried from behind him; a small satchel of explosives in hand, and proceeded to the rear door of the Covenant transport. The rest of the troops covered him.

The demolition man planted the small package upon the door and hastened to the cover of a pile of rubble a little a ways from the downed ship. Likewise, everyone else sheltered behind the tanks and armoured vehicles.

The headlights of the scorpion tanks were focused upon the transport ship, saturating it in an incandescent light. Kane switched off his night vision and got out his submachine gun. _3...2...1..._

The doors of the transport suddenly buckled inwards with a sharp metallic ping; amidst a cloud of white smoke and dirt. "Breaching! Breaching!" cried the soldiers as they poured into the Covenant transport; guns at the ready. Kane followed behind.

**Covenant Calendar: Age of Redemption (May 28****th****) 0105 Hours, Checkpoint Shull'lya**

Jyla groaned as he wearily opened his eyes. The world seemed to be nothing more but a haze of pain and darkness. He blinked and tried to focus; but his body felt so very weak...

With a supreme effort, he lifted his hands and clutched his wound. The blood had clotted over and that stopped the bleeding; which was very fortunate given there were no medical supplies onboard. But still, one of his lungs had been blown open, that much he could tell. His breath produced a ragged spasm of pain.

The Sangheili wondered for a moment what he was doing here; and then, his memories flooded back. He had crash landed. Which meant...

The chatter of humans permeated through the walls of the ruined transport, as if to reinforce the memory. Jyla swore quietly and slowly sat up. There was no choice now: he would have to destroy this ship; one way or another.

As his eyes adjusted to the inky dark; he noted that his plasma grenades had slipped off his vest and tumbled to a corner of the cockpit. He withdrew one hand from his bullet wound and dragged himself across the floor. He panted slightly as he did; and winced at it. His lungs were giving him hell.

He dimly heard an explosion from somewhere outside the transport but ignored. As he finally reached his prize, he seized a grenade with one free hand and laboriously brought it to his jaw. He would squeeze the trigger of the grenade against his snout and that would...

Before he could do so, the doors to the cockpit flew open. Jyla squeezed his eyes shut as a blinding fluorescent light filled the room. And standing right in the doorway was a silhouette of a human.

Jyla pressed the grenade against his snout; but he was a split second too slow: a flash of fire had erupted from the chamber of the man's gun. Lead sliced through his wounded chest and stomach.

As Jyla Tarunmee struggled to stay alive for a few more moments, he suddenly wondered if his spirit would ever see paradise and embark upon The Journey. He wondered if he would see his dead brethren as well. And then, Jyla wondered no more. The last of his life drained out of his bullet laden body: and he would soon find out all that he needed to know.

**UNSC Calendar May 28****th**** 0103 Hours, Tiranus II**

"Son of a bitch..." muttered one of the ODST, as he cautiously lowered his weapon.

The Elite (which now lay dead upon the cockpit floor) had come very close to triggering a plasma grenade he had in his hands. Had he done so, most likely the fuel onboard would have been set alight by the resulting explosion; and everything on the ship would be taken with it.

"Well, we got what we wanted at least," Kane said, as he pointed at the stacks of containers loaded in the rear of the transport.

"Correction: the _army _got what it wanted," replied the ODST as he stashed his submachine gun back into his haversack, "I just wanna stay alive and not get a leg blown off or some shit like that." The others chorused their agreement.

'Good work men," said Lee, as he observed the containers, "All in good shape here. I've been told someone will be coming down here immediately to collect all this. In fact..."

As his words trailed off, Kane spotted a Pelican landing onto the surface of the airfield tarmac a distance away from the downed transport. With his keen sniper eyes, Kane could make out the familiar triangular logo of the ONI (Office of Naval Intelligence) splashed upon the surface of the ship.

"I sure wonder what could be so important as to have _those _guys picking it up," muttered Caudwell in an undertone. Tim nodded vigorously, "When spooks are involved, it has to be something big."

Kane could only wonder.


	10. Sleepless in Cerinia

The moon was round and bright. So very bright; that it resembled a drop of milk upon an otherwise unblemished raven sky. And so very round too; that it brought to the watching eye every crater and pockmarked detail of Cerinia's only natural satellite.

And bathed under its ghostly lights was a half-slumbering city; awake, but not quite. It was where eyelids were heavy and where conversations came and went, in a lazy and contented sort of way. Drinks and words came and went easily; mingling freely with the fading twilight. Every so often, a peal of carefree laughter would momentarily disrupt the hypnotic lethargy that pervaded the city at dusk. But inevitably, that outburst of emotion was too smothered by the overwhelming sense of gratified drowsiness. The breeze was light and the ambience airy and untroubled in agreement. In essence, it was a beautiful night.

Krystal quietly admired the sea of lights that twinkled from the city spread out before her. Every now and then, one of those many lights flickered off forever, a sign of yet another Cerinian surrendering to the land of nod; and a sign that not far in the incunabulum of time; a new dawn awaited its birth. But where _was_ he?

The blue vixen turned around and gazed expectantly at the darkened corridors of the palace behind her. To her dismay, not a soul stirred. With a resigned sigh, she began projecting her mind outwards, in a bid to detect anybody within her sensory range. As she focused, she could pick up the hazy thoughts of the other Palace denizens; though most of them were asleep. Either than that, no one conscious was around in her immediate vicinity. And the night was growing older by the minute. She would have to leave soon unless...

"Missed me?" came a cheeky but yet familiar voice. Krystal gasped and swung to her left, from where the voice had drifted from.

Perched precariously upon the window ledge was a male fox. Like Krystal, his fur too was blue; though of a darker shade than that of the Cerinian princess. Also, a torso armour of pale gold was wrapped tightly around his chest; standard equipment of the Palace guards. A scabbard was attached to the belt that ran around his waist and sheathed within it was a ceremonial dagger. Of course, daggers weren't the only weapons issued to the Palace guards. Strapped on the other end of his belt was a laser pistol; the weapon that would witness action if anything was to attack the palace. But the ultimate weapon was their minds. Palace guards were well versed in the art of concealing their thoughts and presence.

_Of course, _thought Krystal, _That's why I didn't spot him._

Krystal gave an exasperated sigh. "Well, I waited for over an hour. So the answer to your question is: yes. I certainly did,"

She folded her arms stared glumly at the male vixen."Where _were _you anyway? Didn't your shift end ages ago?"

The Palace guard looked apologetic. "Sorry about my most untimely arrival. The armaments inspector called in sick, so it fell upon me to do his job. But I did rush here as fast as I could! I even took a shortcut!" With that, he gestured at the ledge he was squatting on.

Krystal coughed. "You know, there's nothing between you and the palace grounds below but 200 feet of empty space. That would make a very nasty fall." She frowned at him disapprovingly.

"And how did you get up there anyway?"

The male fox rolled his eyes. "Stop worrying about me so much! It's not as if I would trip and..."

Suddenly, his eyes widened in feigned surprise and he began to flail his arms about wildly. His body began to lean back uncomfortably close to the edge of the window ledge. "_Krystal_! Help! I'm..."

Krystal cried in alarm. Instinctively, she lunched forward and seized his paw. Locking it in a tight grip, she hauled the male back through the window and into the safety of the balcony; where they landed upon each other in a disorderly heap. She felt her head thump uncomfortably hard against the granite floor as she landed. The Reynard accidentally tumbled on top of her as well in Krystal's bid to 'rescue' him.

"Shael, are you alright?" exclaimed Krystal as she brushed aside his locks of silver hair. "Why are you crying? Are you hurt? Did you..."

"N-no! Oh Krystal, that was a joke! I didn't actually think you would believe I was falling over!" laughed the fox."You should have seen the look on your face incidentally!"

Krystal blinked.

"Oh, you scoundrel! You had me so scared! I thought I was going to lose you! I was..." she retorted angrily, before her voice began trailing away. It dawned upon her she was in a most _unlady-_like position.

"Er, Shael? We are in a ...er..._awkward_ position right now. Could you?..."

In Krystal's hasty bid to pull the male fox to safety, Shael ended up falling atop the Cerinian princess. Likewise, Krystal found herself pressed beneath Shael's muscular bulk. Their faces lay inches away from other. Krystal was suddenly acutely aware that she could feel Shael's breath upon her snout. And the night seemed to have grown that much warmer...

Shael seemed to have been struck with that realisation too, for he hurriedly tried to get up, his scabbard clinking nosily at his side.

"I'm sorry Krystal; I forgot ..."

Before he could continue, a finger was pressed against his lips. Shael looked at Krystal in surprise as a wry grin spread across the face of the Cerinian princess. A hint of mischief could have been present in that smile too; but Shael wasn't sure.

"Well, I just thought of a way you could make up to me for being late for our date," chuckled Krystal. Her heart was thumping loudly against her chest; so loudly she was sure Shael could have heard it too. With a trembling hand, she lightly grasped the Reynard's arm.

Shael must have caught the message too, for he gazed at her in alarm. "Well...here? But we may get spotted! And you're always the one telling me to be careful."

"Isn't that ironic," laughed Krystal. "But it _is_ late, and we _are_ very alone up here."

As if she were a predator bearing down on its prey, she clasped his waist with her paws and brought his body a tad closer to her own. As she did, she could hear a startled gasp escaping Shael's lips.

Years of proper etiquette and grooming had taught her to behave better than what she was doing now; but Krystal couldn't help it. She was fast blossoming into a woman and she had yet to release the pent up sexual energy that had been rapidly growing within her ever since she entered puberty. And now was the perfect opportunity to experience the sacred bond shared between every male fox and female vixen. At that thought, Krystal could feel her loin grow hot.

The male fox stared lovingly into Krystal's eyes. Their snouts inched closer towards each other. Every intake of air rang sharp and clear to the listening ear. Then, Krystal had her wish met.

As their lips touched, that proved to be the spark to set the proverbial gunpowder keg on fire. Krystal hugged Shael tightly in her embrace and what began as a kiss grew quickly into something more. The Cerinian princess gently lowered her eyelids as she felt the warmth of Shael's lips caressing her. However, Shael wasn't finished.

Krystal blinked in surprise as she felt something slick and smooth nudging against her lips. With a tinge of trepidation, she gazed up at Shael. The vixen stared back, the longing in his eyes unmistakable. Krystal hesitated slightly, and then relented as she allowed Shael's eager tongue entry into the cavern of her mouth.

If there was any anxiety in Krystal, it quickly vanished. The princess moaned in soft delight as their tongues hungrily writhed around the other in a display of affection. She could feel Shael tenderly exploring the interiors of her cheeks; a thought that somehow made her blush deeply. She could never have imagined doing something this intimate (and naughty) with another male.

Slowly, as the heat of the moment withdrew; Shael carefully extracted his tongue. A slim trail of saliva mingled between their mouths nevertheless, that was evidence of what they had been doing not too long ago. His chest heaved up and down deeply and his breath was excited.

"That...That was wonderful Krystal. Thank you." Shael finally gasped. Krystal chuckled softly.

"I should be the one thanking you. I mean...where did you learn to kiss like that?" Krystal replied, her eyes wryly observing the male vixen. Shael said nothing but just grinned sheepishly.

"Well, we only have several hours before daylight. So..." Shael smirked. He lowered his arms and started unfastening his belt. "...Care to assist my lady?"

Krystal giggled despite herself. "Certainly, my captain."

She worked on releasing his torso armour, all the while bending low and gazing up at Shael with seductive eyes. With a playful lunge, she pressed her breasts firmly against Shael's groin and, with the most innocent smile she could muster, glanced back up at the vixen. Sure enough, she could feel a growing lump struggling against her bosom in return. _Still, that was probably enough to incite a response from any male;_ she thought to herself.

As the last of Shael's garments fell to the ground, the fox suddenly leapt upon Krystal; seizing her by the waist as they both tumbled to the balcony floor.

"I got you now my princess!" snarled Shael in a mock predatory voice. Krystal could only giggle in response as she embraced Shael in return. Without pause, he began kissing Krystal's exposed belly; his lips gently suckling her torso. His paws made their way towards the divide between her legs and in unison; they began tenderly spreading apart her thighs.

"That...That tickles!" laughed Krystal as she felt his familiar warm lips gently fondle her fur and skin. In reply, Shael continued his advance up to her bust. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he peeled off the strip of clothing that had covered her chest using nothing but his mouth.

"Oh...my," exclaimed Krystal, her eyes widening in surprise. She had never been exposed like this to another male before. And now; here she was, her bare and young breasts revealed to the world. Despite being calm and composed as she always was, the thought of it made her flush; and it triggered yet another embarrassing reaction as well.

Her nipples were swelling with arousal, a detail that did not escape Shael as he bent down once more to her bosom, his experienced lips and tongue ready to pleasure.

The princess moaned weakly as his mouth centred upon her teat and began suckling; each draw of the lips teasing her turgid nipple even more and each powerful stroke of his tongue releasing a strangled groan from Krystal. Her paws clawed the stony floor beneath her as she relished the felicity of the moment. As if in reply, her crotch grew wetter.

_This would be a night to remember._

_

* * *

_

**Cornerian Calendar May 29****th**** 0200 Hours, Aboard "Great Wolf"**

A series of dull thuds seem to echo from somewhere in the distance. To Krystal, that seemed like an odd thing to hear. She was all alone with Shael; there wasn't anyone else around. Who could that be?

_"Shael, do you hear that?" _she found herself asking sleepily. "_Was that...someone knocking on the door?"_

_ "You're imagining things, love," _laughed the vixen in reply, his comforting breath drifting over Krystal's cheeks. "_There no one but us..." _As Krystal gazed upwards, she found herself looking at his handsome face and his reassuring smile. It was the sort of smile which told you that nothing in the world could go wrong. That everything was alright. It was the smile Krystal badly wanted to believe in.

The thuds grew in strength until they became so thunderous it filled Krystal's ears. Before her very eyes; Shael and the rest of Cerinia seemed to have dissolved into the air, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake.

_"Don't leave me!"_

_

* * *

_

"Emergency meeting at the bridge! Krystal! You awake? _Krystal_?" The raspy voice of Leon hollered through the sliding doors of her personal quarters. The door shuddered yet again as the chameleon pounded urgently on it."Hurry up! This isn't time for your beauty sleep."

"Yes, I'm awake. And sorry about that! I'll be up there in a minute!" Krystal hastily replied. The answer must have satisfied Leon; for she could hear him walk away and mutter angrily something about "women" and "punctuality".

With a groan, the former princess of Cerinia collapsed back onto her bunk bed. She pressed a paw against her forehead wearily as the last traces of her dream began slipping out of her mind. _It had been such a vivid and wonderful dream. _

Still, a tinge of guilt stung her. Fox McCloud, yet another ex-lover, would probably have been none too happy to hear about this previous relationship. Not that it mattered now of course...Fox was long gone, while Shael was...well, he was gone; but in the literal sense. At that thought, Krystal instinctively reached an arm under her pillow and retrieved the golden locket she had stowed away there for safe-keeping.

With a sigh, she pressed the locket against her bosom. It had been 7 Cerinian years (though roughly 5 and a half in Cornerian) since that fateful night. 7 long years since she last saw Shael; the lover who belonged to a secret past life she once shared with. But those days were gone now. And the locket was the only thing that reminded her of everything she had lost.

She stroked the case of the golden locket, her startling green eyes keenly admiring the detail of every carving and pattern. As she rotated it slightly to the left, it caught the light of her lamp and glimmered warmly. _Shael had always been good with his hands._

_ But those were memories for another time. _Krystal swiftly wriggled out of her trek pants and the tank top she donned for sleep. With a careless lunge, she grabbed her characteristic navy blue flight suit from the back of a chair and pulled it over head. After a brief struggle, the outfit was finally snugly fitted over her curvaceous frame.

She patted her hair back, inhaled a deep breath and pulled the doors open; ready to face the trails of a new day. And from somewhere deep in her thigh pockets, the golden locket quietly assured her that everything really was, going to be _alright._

* * *

**A/N: Ok, admittedly I probably just PG13 territory. But hey! What's a story without some romance at the very least?**

**Sorry for the short length of this chapter; was trying to keep it short and sweet. But I'll post the next chapter within the week which will follow up on this. **


End file.
